Encounter
by Jo2
Summary: Series devoted to Helm/Marta
1. Encounter

**ENCOUNTER**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

Beta'd by MnD! You're the best.

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[Manzana Core - Dr. Helm, the Apple of Our Eye][2]

[Jo's Obsessions - HL QoS WW XF Hitchcock][3]

**RATING**: Not sure, probably PG-13 or maybe R for violence and a little lust

**CATEGORY**: Helm/Marta

**SUMMARY**: Marta gets injured, Helm tends to her wounds, a snippet of his past is revealed.

**DISCLAIMER**: The characters in this piece belong to Paramount and Fireworks Productions. Helm's past and the events portrayed here are all from my weird imagination.

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****1817****

Santa Helena was bustling that morning as another shipment of fresh supplies had arrived and residents were grabbing items before the bushels and boxes could be set out for display. Even though it was still morning, the sun was vibrant and hot. A steady breeze hadn't brought relief from the stagnant, humid air that had settled, but instead brought on a slight dust storm. 

One of Tessa's farmhands, Eladio, had driven the wagon into town for supplies and Marta came alone with him. Senorita Alvarado would have normally come, but there was a ranch that had been having trouble with rustlers and The Queen of Swords decided to stop it. Not even the lure of supplies could sway her determination, to try to talk her into waiting another day. Marta knew that what Tessa had to do was for the best. She had helped her into the Queen's attire, watched her ride off on Chico hoping for her safe return. Marta was thrilled that Tessa was making the difference that she was. The fifteen years they spent together started as governess-ward, then became mother-daughter after Senora Alvarado's death. That maternal feeling was still there, but Marta had also become Tessa's closest confidant. Marta was so proud of her but couldn't help but worry everytime she left the casa dressed in black. The prospect that Tessa wouldn't return from an escapade as The Queen made her pace with worry so Marta was glad she had something else do to that morning.

As Eladio was talking with the blacksmith, Marta were engaged in a friendly tug of war over a piece of rose colored silk rolled around a wooden peg. The opposing servant, Rosa, had swooned from the feel of it when she had lifted the corner fold of the fabric to her cheek. "This is the most beautiful fabric I've ever felt. Senora will have to have it." 

Marta smiled. It was magnificent silk. Rosa was a servant of Don Fernandez and was one of the first friends she had made in Santa Helena since her and Tessa's return to California. "Come now, Rosa," Marta softly said in a tone that seemed like a concession, but kept a firm grip on her end of the rolled, perfectly dyed cloth, "there is enough fabric for many fine dresses on this bolt. We can share."

Rosa smiled in agreement and the women hid the fine cloth from others who would demand a portion as well. As soon as Marta had caught sight of the silk, she had envisioned the exact style of dress that she would make for Tessa. The fine white lace they found behind the wine cellar would make a perfect accent around the neckline. With the amount of cloth to use, Senorita Alvarado would be able to have an full skirt that will perfectly accentuate her thin waist. Not that Tessa cared about such things, but the public face of Senorita Alvarado did. They had to keep up appearances.

Marta gave Rose coins to purchase half the bolt, completely trusting that she would receive her share in exchange and continued to scan the newly arrived merchandise. In the basket she held in her arms, Marta deposited a small bag of rice, some nuts and a few oranges. She spotted some chocolates, but they were awfully expensive. Tessa wasn't there to decide where her own money went so Marta walked past them even though they were a luxury neither had been able to enjoy since their days in Spain.

Across the square, Marta noticed Dr. Robert Helm escorting Senora Vera Hidalgo out of his office. His hand was gently placed upon her arm as a gentlemanly gesture, but Marta didn't know how to interpret it. He was dressed in dark grey dress pants and a white shirt that to Marta's eye needed pressing, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Senora Hidalgo was wearing a frilly dress without one misplaced hair on her head. By taking a closer look at them across the square, Marta discovered that Vera actually had a diamond pin clasped to hold her curls up when it sparkled in the sunshine. 

Vera turned to thank the doctor and exchange pleasantries as she daintily fanned herself with a lace fan, even though the wind was strong enough to tousle the Doctor's hair. Marta was so focused on his hair that she hadn't noticed him softly patting Vera's hand as he gently removed it from his arm. Marta's hand instinctively went to her own long naturally curly hair that was confined behind her head with only a thin strip of tied leather. Marta inspected a lock of her hair and thought it felt gritty, mostly from the dusty air and felt the need to wash it as soon as she returned home.

Marta continued to walk through the merchandise, around people skimming through boxes and baskets and barrels, as she kept her gaze on the doctor and the young, rich Senora with whom he was talking. Marta knew she shouldn't compare herself to wealthy women, but at that instant, she couldn't help it. The image of the two of them together, so casually in conversation made Marta feel... 

Envy was the correct emotion and Marta's mind went in a spiral when she grasped it. That couldn't be true! Robert Helm was a doctor, an ex-soldier, definitely from a higher class than herself. Still, she couldn't help but feel jealous of a simple, platonic hand on the arm of the woman who treated her marriage vows as a suggestion, not as law. 

Marta kept on slowly walking as she watched Vera elegantly bow and thank Dr. Helm. For what Marta didn't know, but he could have prescribed her a headache remedy. The roots Marta had given Vera's maid obviously hadn't helped or she hadn't given them a chance or Vera just wanted to widen her horizons. That thought made Marta feel jealous again and hated that she so immediately felt that way about a man who had always been polite in group situations, had fixed her hand wound that she self inflicted to save Tessa from being found out just a few weeks before, but that was about it. He couldn't possibly be interested in her, a servant. A Gypsy. She shouldn't have such thoughts. There wasn't any way she could walk up to him to have a conversation, but that didn't make Marta from stop wishing it could happen.

Vera's flirtatious laugh echoed through the air which made Marta's thought process turn from envy to rejection of the situation. To each their own. Marta grabbed two long candles and placed them in the basket and went to purchase the goods she'd collected. She glanced over to Helm's office door once again to see him bid a good day to Senora Hidalgo. Even though it was directed at another woman, his easy smile and slight bow of gentlemanly charm captivated her.

With great force, and extreme embarrassment, Marta suddenly tumbled head over heels as she tripped over a water bucket on the ground. She lost her hold on the backet, oranges and nuts flew. The candles rolled under the board walk. The water in the bucket somehow ended up splashing on the skirt of her dress. She flipped her hair back behind her head making dust and dirt flutter in the breeze around her. She sat in wonderment of what the hell just happened. A man appeared in front of her face and he roughly said, "Senora, my horse was going to drink that water."

He held his hand out to help her to her feet. Marta cautiously accepted it but the hand hold was broken by the sudden appearance of Dr. Helm. "She may have broken a bone," he quickly said to the man, stopping him from lifting her. He softly spoke to her, "Let me check you before you move."

Marta groused, "The only thing I have suffered, Dr. Helm, was a blow to my dignity." She saw that she had suddenly become the focus of almost everybody's attention even though they only stopped for a moment to watch the event, then went back to grabbing supplies or going about their business. She also caught the sight of two girls with their hands over their mouths as they giggled at her performance.

"You didn't see that coming, eh," Helm asked the Gypsy woman, having a hard time controlling his own wave of laughter from seeing such a sight, but quickly choked it down. Marta caught the jab and saw his suppressed grin, so she was about to hike herself off the ground. That's when Helm's medical instincts kicked in and he settled her back down. His hands moved from Marta's hip to her ankle, then down the other leg, up her back. His quick but careful examination verified that her left knee was injured from the blood stain on the skirt of her dress. When he checked her arms only her right wrist was scraped. No broken bones. He tenderly felt her neck, then clasped his fingertips lightly on her cheeks as he asked her to move her head slowly from side to side.

As she did, she shut her eyes. Her mouth felt tight from embarrassment and from the growing sensation of what his touch had done to her body. She was finding it hard to breathe. "I am fine," she finally said, looking into his concerned dark green eyes. Those eyes that seemed to peer down into her very soul, and may have discovered her untoward thoughts.

"You have some cuts," he said. "Let me bring you to my office and clean them." He repositioned his legs underneath him, knelt beside her, arms under hers, to gently lift her to her feet. 

Marta was a dead weight. She needed fanning and quickly or she could lose consciousness at the sudden man handling she had so unexpectantly received from the mysterious, charismatic doctor. The horse head-butted Marta as she made it to her feet and Helm gallantly brushed the horse's head away and said with a giggle, "He likes you."

Marta blurted out as she brushed off the wet spot on her dress, "Even though I am wearing his water?"

The horse's owner asked, "Are you all right, Senora?"

"I am fine," Marta blushed, not at all used to all the attention, and because Dr. Helm's hand was suddenly placed on the small of her back. 

"To my office...," Dr. Helm wouldn't let her argue. They were half way across the street before she even knew her legs were working. 

Vera had been hovering right after the fall, snapped to attention as soon as Marta stood on her own two feet. She ordered her servant to pick up Marta's items and put them in the Alvarado wagon. Rosa also came forward to see if her friend was all right, and to assure her that the cloth would be delivered to Senorita Alvarado later that afternoon.

Since Dr. Helm had a steady hand on Marta, Vera clasped onto her other arm and stated the obvious, "Marta, that was quite a fall."

"I am fine, Senora Hidalgo."

"Where is Maria Theresa? You are alone in town?"

"She felt ill this morning," Marta lied to cover the real reason why she hadn't made an appearance.

Helm suggested, "Maybe I should pay her a house call?"

"No, Doctor," Marta quickly said. "It's just the heat, and... well... Tessa is fragile."

Vera nodded in agreement. "Dr. Helm gave me some pills to take for the headaches. I haven't had the chance to try the remedies you gave my maid, Marta, but I need all the help I can get." She smiled at Dr. Helm.

Vera hastily switched the subject, "Will you be able to finish my lilac dress before the fiesta next week?"

Dr. Helm squinted from the seemingly crass selfishness the Senora laid upon the injured woman. He knew Vera hadn't been born into money, but she had sure taken on the aristocratic personality he found dreadful. Marta, who wanted no part of sympathy, was glad for the change of topic, "Of course. You should come again for a final fitting."

"I will tomorrow morning," Vera beamed with complete satisfaction. "You take good care of her, Dr. Helm."

"That's what I do," he replied, then opened the door for Marta to enter his domain. After getting Marta comfortably seated on a chair in his office, Helm brought out bandages, towels and a wash basin filled with warm water to tend to her bruises. He pushed his swivel stool in front of her chair and joked, "I've heard of kicking the bucket, but you gave that old expression a whole new meaning." He smiled with great flair, to put her in a better mood.

It worked for an instant, but she cringed from what that display must have looked like and flinched when the wet cloth touched her scraped right palm. "Sorry," Dr. Helm instantly said. "I should have warned you."

He started on the outer edges of the wound to clean off the blood, then tenderly dabbed at her broken skin with a fresh part of the cloth dampened by the warm water. He said, "I suppose you have all sorts of potions or roots or berries or something, but I can get it cleaned out for you." Marta would rather use her aloe, but let the doctor do whatever he wanted. She noticed his hand clutching a wet piece of cotton above her wrist. When she looked up at him, he regretfully said, "This will hurt."

She prepared herself for the reaction and hissed from the rough cloth scraping against her wound even though he did it as carefully as he could. He immediately held her wounded hand close to his mouth as he blew on it to ease the pain, and it helped. With their hands entwined, Marta got a snippet of a vision. Dr. Helm was in a very nice dark suit. He was running down the grand stairs of a large house. An upper class house. A house that was different from the grand palaces that she had seen in Spain. It was well decorated with gold accents and fine art on the walls. Dark wood paneling. Thick carpeting. He was yelling at the top of his lungs but she couldn't tell what it was. His yell echoed and reverberated through the halls which may have just been a grunt. He ran with a knife in his hand, a knife that had blood on it.

Remembering the last time he treated her hand and what she had said to him, Helm saw her eyes glaze over, but still stared at him, just as she had done before. He set her hand on her lap. "Don't do that," he gently warned. He was irritated as well as distraught at her invasion but was also trying to maintain a composure that wouldn't signal to her that she was searching for a truth that he had tried to put behind him.

"This is the second time you have tended to my wounds."

"Yes," he smiled, tried to be light but wondered what she just saw. "One more visit of yours and I can afford the rent on bigger office space."

"Senorita Alvarado will of course pay the bill."

"I was joking."

"Payment is not a joking matter."

"No payment is necessary. A little bit of water and a little bandaging is all it takes."

"But your time..."

"There's no charge, Marta," he emphatically stated as he bandaged her wrist. 

"When I fell over that bucket," she started to admit without thinking that she didn't see it because her eyes were focused on him, and luckily didn't finish the sentence.

Helm finished it for her, "You weren't looking where you were going?" He tied a loose knot and looked up at her from his hunched over position, "It would be best if you think about where you place your feet."

Proud of his bandaging of her hand, he sat up straight. He knew there weren't any more wounds on her upper body, but he knew there was a knee that needed his attention. It would be too forward to just hike up her dress. "May I?" he asked, pointing at her left leg.

Marta had been reflecting on what house he might have been in, why he was running and yelling, and what he was yelling in the vision. Just how interesting his face was when it was just a half a foot from hers, how tender his touch was, how green his eyes were, how wonderfully sculpted his neck was, how she wanted to run her hand through his still windswept hair, how interesting his English accent was. She finally asked, "Hm?" when she realized that he had said something but she missed it.

He repeated, "May I take a look at your knee?" He showed her the transferred blood on the skirt of her dress.

"Yes, of course," she said, still in a trance of trying to make sense of what she had visioned in a flash and what she saw right there in front of her. She hadn't even realized that he had lifted the skirt of her dress and had positioned the gathered material on her lap. Only the sudden air on her legs pointed it out. She modestly lowered her dress again. He was surprised by her movement as he was just going to wipe the scrape clean with a freshly dampened cloth.

"Working through fabric makes it harder but..." he smiled once again. His smile brightened not only his face, her mood, but the entire room. 

Marta just couldn't figure out how that gentle man could have been so angry in the mysterious house. She had to know. She took the cloth out of his hand and set it on the desk at her side. Dr. Helm was confused, and a little bit trepidatious, when she again took his hand. Even more so when she wrapped her fingers between his, sandwiching his between hers. She closed her eyes and softly moaned, "So much pain."

"Yes," he hesitantly replied. "I'm sure your knee hurts. Let me take a look at it."

Even though he half heartedly tried to take his hand back, she kept a firm grip on it as more of the vision flowed through her mind. It was so unlike the doctor they all knew, she couldn't be sure she was seeing things correctly. Then a thought came to her and she verbalized it, "Betrayal... There was no one after you...," she said, still trying to make out a clear vision. "You weren't after anyone... Why run in such a tranquil house?"

"Pardon me?" He felt electrified by the gypsy's touch, the power in her hands, even though one was bandaged. She couldn't possibly know what he was or what he had done, but she was obviously seeing something.

"That was your house," Marta cautiously said. Then she changed her mind. "No, it wasn't your house. It was the house you grew up in. In England. Or a house you played in when you were a child. But you're a grown man, like you are now. And you ran."

Dr. Helm couldn't even guess that she was so close to the truth. He could only regard her as a seer who was tossing out a few theories. If you threw out enough, one had to be true. He jerked his hand away from her and quickly stated, "The more time that passes with air hitting your wound, the more its going to hurt to heal it. Lift your skirt!"

His abruptness startled her, but she did as he asked so he could clean off her bloody knee that she had to admit hurt like Diablo himself had left his mark on her. When she unbent her knee for him to be able to see it, she cried out from the unexpected sear of pain. Dr. Helm wasn't concerned with how it might look, he just wanted to be able to see her knee more clearly without having to hunch over. He wanted it closer to his face and in the light that shone from an oil lamp on his desk. He lifted her leg up onto his lap and Marta quickly punched folds of her skirt between her legs. He hadn't noticed her modesty or if he did, he hadn't reacted. His sole attention was on the dirt in the wound. He leaned over her knee to reach the cloth on the desk and quickly rewet it and wrung it out. 

Marta hoped that no one would walk in while she was in that position, legs apart in the company of a single man. It was purely professional, of course. But Marta couldn't help but feel almost brazen. Her right knee brushed against Dr. Helm's hip and she saw him tilt his head down and off to the side, but didn't say anything or move her away.

Dr. Helm wanted to hurriedly do a thorough job of getting her wound clean and bandaged so he could get Marta out of his office. Not that he didn't want anything more to do with her. In fact, when her knee brushed his hip, he reacted in more ways than just turning his head, and it was purely physical. The problem was that she might have seen something he had taken great pains to hide. The reason he changed his name. The reason he left England. The reason he would never return to his homeland. He leaned over her knee again to rewet the cloth and only then did he realize her hand was on his upper arm. He looked into her eyes and saw that she hadn't done so because of want or lust. It was because she was curious. He brushed her hand off his white shirt sleeve. "You'll have to stop that," he warned, a little too forcefully.

"He is dead," Marta weakly revealed. "Your father is dead."

Dr. Helm bolted up from the stool with his eyes flared. The loss of the stability of his lap made her injured knee bang into the side of the desk. She leaned over and moaned from the pain of the jostlement of the half cleaned wound. The doctor in him suddenly kicked back in and he apologized for causing her pain. "Just... let me tend to you and that's it. Right?"

"Yes, Doctor," she agreed. "I was only trying to help you."

"Funny," he smirked. "So was I."

Marta realized his breathing was stronger, as if he was suddenly having a panic attack. "I'm sorry. I was being forward."

"Yes, you were."

"It is not my business."

"No. It is not," he firmly stated.

Instead of once again dealing with the stool, the chair, her leg on his, touching her, worse yet for his sanity her touching him.... he motioned to the examination table and asked her to lay on it. She nodded and tried to get upon it, but she was too short. He quickly swept her into his arms and set her on the table, then moved back. 

Marta was embarrassed laying on the table exposed to him as he glared at her. She hadn't wanted to cause him distress when he was only doing his job. She wanted to leave. She sat up to do just that, but it was his turn to put his hand on her. On her shoulder, which he gently nudged back down. He collected his thoughts and then slid up the skirt of her dress. He smiled when she clasped her hands together and placed them on her gut, then lower to make sure her dress wouldn't slip up to reveal more than her lower legs. But he could see her legs. Except for the nasty, dirty scrape, Helm was very well informed that Marta had fabulous legs.

Helm grabbed the towel once again to gently wipe out more grains of dirt from her wound as she bit back each wave of pain. He lessened the haste in which he cleaned the wound wanting to make it as easy as possible for her.

She spoke again, "An unexamined trauma only festers in your mind, Dr. Helm."

"An inquisitive patient only annoys me, Marta," he shortly replied.

Marta once again looked at his face, his changed demeanor once a portion of his past was revealed as he tended her wound. "You are The Hermit," she stated as a fact.

He had to laugh, "The what? Hermit? That's the last thing I am. I'm not a recluse. Or a loner."

"No," she said, not as a question. "You are like the tarot card, The Hermit. One who is full of secrets. One who changes his life and future to protect the past."

"I don't know anything about that, Marta," he said. He was pleased that the conversation had drifted off into another vein, one that didn't involve his haunted past, but he realized to his chagrin, that it had swung back to him. He wished she would stop her prodding and just let him do his work.

"But you know that I am right."

"You have no right to tell me that I made a bad choice," he blurted out a little too forcefully and threw the cloth into the basin. Water splashed against the wall and across the table. Helm wanted to be a cordial doctor with the pleasant bedside manner but the skills instilled in him by His Majesty's Service bubbled to the surface. He ran his hands roughly up and down on his face and through his hair to calm himself. She had opened his emotional wound so suddenly that even he was mystified by his intense reaction. 

Marta knew she had gone too far, she had meddled too far. One thing she learned was that if someone didn't want to talk about their past or inner thoughts it wasn't her place to force the issue. She was only concerned about him. The visions were so unlike what he had portrayed to the town. She knew his secrets were eating him up inside and that he had to deal with whatever his past held.

Helm was close to hyperventilating from distress when he placed his hands on the table alongside her body and bent his head in frustration. He turned and got another roll of bandages to wrap her knee and couldn't help but hesitantly ask, "How do you see things?"

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever you think you just saw in my past. How do you do it?"

Marta smiled, he was open to at least discussing her skills. "I only see what you allow me to see."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Yes, it does," she smiled, not wanting to scare him again. "I don't go around touching things or people and instantly knowing everything. I only see when a door has been opened to me. You have tried to hide the truth and it's eating away at your soul. I can feel that. That's why I have wanted to see more. You're inner voice is crying out to be heard."

He tied a knot on the side of her knee to hold the bandage in place and it was done. She was fixed up. All he needed to do was tell her to take it easy, give her some more bandaging and set her off on her merry way. That was all he had to do and it would be over. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He pulled her up to a sitting position and stepped back. His hands firmly clasped behind him not wanting her to see anything more. He truly didn't believe in the paranormal, the mystical... but she had to be a very good guesser if she hadn't indeed seen the actual truth. _'You're inner voice is crying out to be heard_.' That sentence weighed on him. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted a civilian to know what he had done. Maybe he wanted to be judged by an impartial jury. 

Marta swung her legs over the edge of the table, but before she could slip down to the floor Dr. Helm stepped forward and took hold of her shoulders. He looked straight into her eyes as he told her, "I don't believe in your magic."

"That's all right," Marta said, not in the least jarred. She was used to it. "I don't have a lot of faith in your medicine."

"Touche," he ironically grinned, then slowly slipped his hands down her arms to take hold of her hands. Marta obliged his gesture that came with a great amount of uneasiness and held his hands. They looked into each other's eyes, and he waited a long silent moment. He gravely asked, "What do you see?"

She opened her mind to capture anything that may come to her as she concentrated on his thoughts. Marta slowly shook her head, "Nothing." She was seeing his glorious face, with a mask covering his true emotions, very clearly. "You aren't allowing me access."

"But I want to," he whispered.

For that, she was glad, on so many levels. She told him, "Then don't block me."

"I'm not," he said, suddenly feeling foolish. Marta held onto his hands tighter when it seemed to her that he was going to move away. She closed her eyes and sensed that Dr. Helm was slowly dropping his defenses. She saw him once again running, this time in the dark, outside. He was wearing the suit and could hear him taking heaving breaths.

He asked, with a little bit of bitterness that his openness to her skills weren't working, "Do you need your tarot cards?" He was going to step away and maybe tell her the old fashioned way what had happened but wondered if he was still open to having her know the worst about himself.

The vision was gone, just as Marta was making some sort of sense of it all. He blocked her again. "No," Marta intoned, not wanting herself to break the mood also. "My cards predict the future or solidify the perceptions of the present. You need to release your past. Shall we try again?"

She pulled on his hand, moving him closer to her until he was standing between her legs. Helm was certain she hadn't realized what she had done. Still, he didn't move. Instead he studied her slender neck. He closed his eyes to smell her without any distractions. She smelled of flowers. But musky. A very interesting natural scent that couldn't have come from a bottle. 

"Open yourself to me," Marta whispered. Helm gently moved his head forward until his forehead touched hers. He took a deep breath and thought of nothing but her scent. Suddenly, Marta saw him on that dark night. Then just as swiftly, he was back running in the house. She had to calm herself as the flashes were hastily running in reverse order. Helm had squeezed her hand, making her wound sear with pain. She flinched, losing contact with his memory again. 

"I'm sorry," he said. Helm had given up, he hadn't even known what was expected of him. 'Open yourself'? He hadn't the foggiest notion what that meant. Her magic or faith or abilities were completely out of his realm of understanding. 

Marta wouldn't let go of his hand. She bent her head, closed her eyes and uttered a name that she knew had been important to him. "Ethan?" 

Helm was dumbfounded! Whatever he thought of her skills or 'gifts', there wasn't any way she could have come up with that unless she truly saw something. She lifted her head and regarded him steadily as he tried to control his breathing.

She closed her eyes again and bobbed her head, "I can see." Still slowly nodding, she said, "If you want me to discover it, join me."

Her voice was soft, her skills astounding and he needed to see if it were actually possible to read one's mind, an experiment. "What do I need to do?"

"Let go of your fear."

That was a tall order, considering the fact that he was ashamed and hadn't wanted anyone to know for so long. But Helm did it. Marta might be angry with him when she found out. She may tell everyone in the town to stay away from him. He could be jailed. Executed. There were a lot of things that could happen by having the truth released... but not in this life. Anything that would happen on earth wouldn't be anything he couldn't deal with. It was after this life was over, his judgment day, when he would have to explain himself.

Regardless of his hesitation, Helm relived the reasons for his personal pain and did hope that Marta would be able to join him in his revisitation. If only to solidify the fact that he was a monster.

*****

King and Country. That was all that mattered to the young Lieutenant of His Majesty's Service. Their ideals had been his life since the man who came to call himself Robert Helm was 18 years old. King and Country. Robert Helm was born Viscount Robert Birchwick, eldest son and heir to the Earl of Birchwick. They were a noted family who's land holdings were extensive. Over the centuries the family had been stable in their prosperity, much to the aggravation of the royal family who's assets grew and shrunk with every war. One of the Birchwick's most prized acreage was the property that the crown had endowed to get one of Robert's ancestors to allow the army access from the sea. 

Robert grew up in luxury, schooled by tutors who came to their estate, raised by a governess Sarah, who he came to look upon as more of a mother than his own. Sarah had three sons, Ethan was just a few hours older than Robert. Not only did they celebrate their birthdays with a yearly celebration, they did everything together and truly thought of themselves as brothers. Ethan knew his boundaries; he couldn't do the things that Robert took for granted. Robert wouldn't think twice about interrupting the Earl in his study, didn't care if he was in a meeting. Ethan would hover outside in the hallway after coming to a screeching stop at the door and not running inside the room. They would explore the Birchwick's vast property, played hide and seek in the kitchen much to the exasperation the chef and his staff, and played pranks on each other's younger sisters. 

When Robert and Ethan turned 18, the Earl decided that the military was the only option for his privileged son as the Birchwicks had had a long, proud history of serving the Union Jack. Ethan's entry into the military was his only option of making a life for himself that could make him rise above his lowly station in life. They joined up together. After basic training, they wanted to use their brains and their love of science classes that they had sailed through as children and soon switched to medical trainees. Just before their final year of schooling, Robert was recruited into Intelligence while Ethan went on to became a doctor. 

****1813****

King and Country. The country was Britain, but it was hard to figure out who the King rightfully was. George III still wore the crown but by all accounts the man was insane. The Prince of Wales had been named Prince Regent and called the shots for the last two years. The War of 1812--or as the British called it the Second War in America--was in full swing. 

Since Robert and Ethan were assigned on opposite sides of the Atlantic, they didn't see each other at all since they had parted company and specialties. Only a seldom, highly cherished letter would get through, that would turn out to have been written months earlier. Robert was happy that he was going to America on a mission and he would have the opportunity to meet up with Ethan on the ship he had been assigned to as medical officer.

When Robert got off the ship in New Foundland, he heard news that hit him like a ton of bricks. His first thought was that Britain had lost their premiere ship in the fleet when it was fired upon in ambush in the thick of night. All aboard were lost when it sunk beneath the surface of Lake Erie. Robert's second thought was that Ethan was on that ship and he was lost along with his crewmen. When Robert realized the order of how things affected him, he was devastated that his training and the mind set he'd had to use in Intelligence had overtaken the deep brotherly affection he felt for his life-long friend. It was only then that Robert realized that he had changed, to his mind, irrevocably changed. He hadn't realized that he had become ruthless and had done his duty well, putting Britain before all else, especially his humanity.

Conflicted between private pain and patriotic revenge, Robert got word that he was to return to England immediately. That familiar rumble in his gut made him knew what was expected of him. That rumble was the fire that he had to stoke to make himself the emotionally dead killing machine his superiors made sure he was. He had to do the work that was expected of him. He was well trained, one of their best operatives. 

Robert was an assassin in cases where there was no room for barristers, politics and deal making. He was selected and trained for the position because of his intelligence. His medical training was a bonus. If you knew how to save a life, you would know how to quickly end one. When Robert received word to return home, he knew it was to find and plug the leak that made the ambush of the ship possible. For that, he was ecstatic. His mantra was, "Oh, he will SURELY pay!" Those words in his head made everything he did to prepare and plan so much easier. He would revenge Britain's loss that could very well lead to their losing the war as well as Ethan's sacrifice and couldn't wait for it to happen.

****1814****

After a period of long and careful planning, gaining the trust of nefarious factions that supplied the military with everything from wood for their ships to bullets for their guns, Robert and his new partner, Lord Bromley, had narrowed down the field of possible traitors to five. Lord Bromley was Robert's godfather, the Earl of Birchwick's best friend, and was highly placed in society. Only someone in Bromley's social set and business dealings would be in the position to sell secrets to the United States. 

Lord Bromley had sent out a communication that only the traitor would fall for. The clandestine meeting would take place during a party at the Bromley estate. The leak would be the only interested party and would face Lieutenant Robert Birchwick filled with his mercenary expertise, patriotism and want of revenge for the death of his friend in Bromley's study for the 'meeting'.

Five minutes after the meeting was scheduled, Robert walked through the crowded ballroom. He didn't mingle with the people he'd known since childhood. All he could focus on was that the turncoat would certainly be in Lord Bromley's study. He also focused on how he would kill. There were so many options, but he had earlier decided on a knife. Knives were silent. He would have to do it quickly. Robert felt the dagger in his right sock, just ready to be plucked and thrown across the room to his target knowing he wouldn't miss. Or maybe he should stab him in the heart up close. Then he would be able to see his reflection in those traitorous eyes as they would lose their lifeblood. Killing with a knife had the appeal of being a quick, quiet death that he could savor close up, rather than one which would attract attention.

He sauntered up the steps to the second floor. The sounds of music and dancing of the party slowly diminished with each step. As he reached the landing all Robert could hear was Ethan's easy childhood laughter ring in his ear. Robert felt he was hearing his friend to get his mind in the correct mood. Anger. Revenge. His friend, his 'brother', had been so cruelly silenced. Robert had to make it personal. Then he envisioned the flaming ship swallowed up by the churning seas in the blackest night. Ethan's playful laughter tapered off in Robert's memory only to be replaced by what he imagined were the cries and screams of Ethan and his shipmates fruitlessly trying to save each other and their dying ship. 

Robert reached the door of Lord Bromley's study and put his hand on the knob. He paused to listen if there was a sound from inside. There was the squeak of Bromley's leather desk chair but nothing else. Robert used the knob to steady himself as he bent down to get the dagger out of his sock all the while looking both ways down the hallway to see if there were any witnesses.

His anger for the worthless human being on the other side of the door was intense and he did nothing to squelch it. In fact, he fanned that fire within him. That emotion made it so much easier to perform his duty. For King and Country. For Ethan.

He turned the knob and pushed open the door. A man with dark hair and graying temples was indeed sitting in the leather chair behind Lord Bromley's desk. Robert could only see the top half of the back of his head as he was facing the other way, out the window to the well manicured gardens lit by a string of lanterns for the party. Robert shut the door behind him, leaned against it, made sure his grip on the handle of the dagger was secure. He could see his reflection in the window from the glowing oil lamp on the desk. If he could see his reflection, the bastard in that chair could also.

As soon as the chair started to turn, Robert deftly glided across the room and got a hand on the back of the chair before whoever was in it could react. The dagger entered the traitor's heart before he knew what hit him. With pleasure, Robert twisted the handle then slid the dagger to slice to the side between the ribs to make sure no one would be able to save him.

That's when Robert saw the man's terrorized face. The knife was still embedded in the Judas' body. The man was responsible for killing hundreds of comrades, countrymen. He had spit upon the Union Jack, the very symbol that Robert had lived for and killed for. The man had by extension of his deeds killed his best friend in the world. That man was Edward, the Earl of Birchwick. Robert's father. 

Instead of feeling regret, pain or shock of his father being the one in that chair, Robert only felt betrayal. The man who had lived in luxury fanning the patriotic flames when it suited his own dealings had been the one who revealed secrets to the enemy. Robert moaned from the bitterness of complete and utter hatred that had taken over his soul in a flash of an instant that would never diminish. He yanked the knife from his chest and looked into his father's soon to be lifeless eyes. His father's face, fat from excessive living, turned red. His forehead was wrinkled from astonishment. His mouth was wide with dismay, in too much pain and shocked to even make a sound. With complete hatred, Robert raised the knife and plunged it back into his father's chest again with full force. 

"You bastard!" He stabbed him again. Yelling more, stabbing repeatedly, Robert took all the surprise and frustration he felt out on his father, by this time a corpse. He yanked the knife out and swayed from lightheadedness as his father fell to the floor. He looked up to see his reflection in the window and didn't recognize himself. His face was monstrously contorted. His chest heaved with every breath he took. His father's hand had landed on his shoe. Robert stepped back focused on that hand that he suddenly remembered from his childhood. 

With great force, Robert stepped on it. The bones crunched beneath his foot. "Burn in hell," Robert yelled as he stepped back, to the door. "I hope you burn in hell!"

He ran out of the room, back down the hall and down the stairs, crying, moaning and yelling as he made his way to the side entrance away from the party. Only a footman outside happened to see him. When he did, he cowered back into the bushes to get out of his way. Robert's right arm and hand was full of blood, splatters were on his face and crisp white shirt. He didn't stop running. He didn't care that he was seen. He ran into the dark of night to get as far away from the madness as he could.

Robert only stopped running when he was miles from the mansion because of sheer exhaustion. It had felt wonderful to run, to put as much distance from his father and his deed as he could. He bent over, hooking his hands on his knees and gasped for breath. That's when he saw the blood on his arm. He sunk to his knees and brought his hands out in front of him. He saw his father's blood shine clearly in the moonlight. He felt the remnants of his father's drying life substance matted into his hair and the congealing gel smeared on his hands. For the first time, he realized it was actually his own father that he had killed so easily for King, Country and the memory of his best friend. His father. 

He collapsed to the ground, face smashed into the dirt and moaned. He couldn't breathe, not because of the marathon he had just completed. He saw his mother's face as she would hear the news that her husband was dead. He saw his sister, Claire, trying to comfort their mother in her own state of shock while at the same time comforting her own children. Robert had been trained too well to know that emotion had no place while performing his duty. None. He had failed in so many ways that evening. The guilt washed over him making it hard for him to even breath. Then he wept with bitter regret. All his father owned and had been perceived to be was now his. Viscount Robert Birchwick was the rightful heir to the lands and fortune his father's family had amassed for centuries.

But Robert never returned to his family home. Where he turned to days later was to his commander, to tell him that the mission had been completed. As he stood at attention in his office, his commander knew who it was that Robert had taken out. Robert stood at attention waiting--wanting--the reprecussions to begin. To his astonishment, his commander promoted him. The moral dilemma of patricide wasn't an issue with his superior officer. In fact, it made him an even more valuable asset to the British cause. 

His father's memory was never soiled. The Earl of Birchwick was buried in the family plot next to the wetlands he had hunted for game all his life. No one but Robert, Bromley and Robert's superior knew the truth that the Earl had sold his soul to the devil. The family wasn't broken financially because of it. The family wasn't cast in a notorious light. The matter had been taken care of, why make it more unpleasant for the people who were left to carry on? The Earl's death had been attributed to a anti-monarchist. After the press and gossip at parties got a hold of the news, the Earl of Birchwick was painted a martyr for Loyalists.

His superior gave Robert a short leave to tend to family matters saying, "The Crown is proud of your service, Birchwick."

"Helm," Robert quickly said. Ethan was no longer able to carry on his mission on earth, but Robert found that he could. The maternal Sarah Helm who raised him and had showed him more love than his own mother had would be pleased. He said Ethan's last name quickly, without thinking, but it felt so right.

"Excuse me, Officer?"

"My name is Robert Helm from now on," Robert gravely said.

His superior considered it, then solemnly nodded. "I understand." He shuffled some papers on his desk and handed them over to Robert. "Lt. Helm, Spain. Your transport leaves in the morning."

Robert scanned the paper which contained his orders. There were sketchy details of a Corporal who had been seen in the company of the French. British Intelligence was concerned that if the price was right, he could be ready to sell secrets of their troop movements. Time was of the essence. Robert's gut started to rumble again, his subconscious started to once again get his head and body ready for what was expected of him. Robert folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He took a deep breath and saluted his commander. 

The act of killing Ian Latham in Spain was done smoothly, quickly. He had recaptured the plans. He did his duty for King and Country. A couple of nights later, Robert laid on a cot in a tent in a military camp over fifty miles from the front, the scene of his last assassination. He stared up at the tenting above his head and could barely make out the texture of the fabric through the darkness. The flap was open and he could hear patrols keeping watch but the night was so black, the moon was blotted out by a heavy layer of clouds. Robert thought back to Latham's killing and couldn't even picture the man's face. He could only remember the uniform that Robert instantly thought he hadn't deserved to wear. Soon, before Robert realized what his mind had done to him, he visualized his father's face lying on the Spanish battle-scarred plain, wearing Latham's uniform. 

Robert sat up with a groan and laid his head in his hands. He had started to not be able to accept the long, dark nights. All his deeds he had done for King and Country were starting to make his blood run cold. All the assassinations were starting to blend into one long, devious act. He had to stop! He had to regain his sanity. King and Country turned him into what he had become. King and Country were so proud of his ruthlessness, of his inhumanity.

Robert noticed, but had not heard, that a messenger had arrived at his tent door. "Sir?" the young man, almost a boy asked. Robert couldn't see his face but the high pitch of his voice gave away his naivete. He wondered at that moment if he himself had ever been so young and starry-eyed. "Sir?" the boy repeated again.

"What do you want?" Robert rubbed his eyes and stood.

The messenger handed him a piece of paper and said quite excitedly, "From High Command..."

Another piece of paper. Another mission. Someone else needed to be taken out for King and Country. Helm couldn't make out what the orders actually were on the paper, but he could imagine what the look on the young messenger's face would be, the excitement of covert activities of war. A chance to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Wishing for more responsibility than they had given him.

"Did you read this?" Helm asked.

"No, sir," the boy said. "I only deliver messages."

"Well, you did your duty," Helm quickly said. "Good night, Private."

He half heartedly returned the messenger's exuberant salute and closed the tent flap, shutting the boy and the world out. He turned on a lamp and sat back on the cot. The orders were still in his hand. His shaky hand. It flittered back and forth so violently, he couldn't control it. The paper fluttered to the ground. 

He stood, flapping his arms to work out all traces of stress on his body. Robert knew what he had to do. He hurriedly packed his canvas bag and stepped over the orders on his way out of the tent. He was through. King and Country would have to make do without him. He got on his horse and rode off into that dark night. He didn't stop until he was at a port of departure. He sold the horse and boarded a ship readying for a journey to the United States. It was a purely symbolic gesture to go to the victors of the war against his homeland. Along with being a man without a country, Robert Helm felt like a man without a soul.

****1817****

Helm's eyes were still clamped shut as he relived his terrible deed in his own mind. His forehead was still butted up against Marta's. He was completely undone by the experience of mentally reliving it and started to shake. Marta had access to snippets of his memories and opened her eyes, not really knowing it all, but had a pretty good glimpse. His body language as his mind went through the past signalled her to his anger, betrayal, acceptance. The last instinct she had felt was his turning his back on everything he was and had in life. Through her own tears, she saw those of Helm's. She released his hand to wipe his cheek. Her touch startled him and his eyes sprang open. He quickly asked, "Did you see it?"

She closed her eyes once again and shrugged. "Some." But she didn't move. Helm expected her to flee, slap him, throttle him, at least push him away. That was what he felt he deserved. The fresh reliving of his deed had made him hate himself once again. He looked at her face and tried to make out what she was showing him. He was astonished to see what he decided was concern. One of her hands was still holding his, the other caressed his cheek. "So much pain," she softly said.

He was so confused by her reacion and stated, "You didn't see it. You couldn't have."

She didn't turn away, she looked straight into his eyes to tell him, "I saw enough." 

His insides were in turmoil. His shoulders shook with each guttural cry he couldn't hold back. Marta moved her hands from his face to massage his shoulders, then wrapped her arms around him. He collapsed against her, laid his head on her shoulder as he returned the hug and openly wept. He bitterly admitted aloud, "I killed my own father."

Marta softly shushed him, and whispered, "He sacrificed innocent men."

He nodded, his cheek moving her shoulder up and down as he had pressed in so close. "It was war. It was my job."

"Yes," Marta replied, holding him. She couldn't comprehend what he was feeling. She had no idea what the horrors of war was like for the men who waged them. She had only been on the sidelines praying Spain would survive. She had never killed another. She couldn't ever have had the thought of killing her own father, but her father was a peaceful Gitano, not a butcherer of hundreds by his dealings. One thing she did know was patriotism and how powerful that emotion was. Also, she knew how regretful Helm was at that moment. 

"The impulse to kill him so savagely came so quickly," Helm cried out. "As if he was nothing to me."

"That is what you have to accept. It still causes you pain because you loved him."

"No," Helm lifted his head and rapidly shook it. He still didn't know how he felt about his old man, especially after he would stifle any thought he would have of him since he took him out of this world.

She tried again, "You admired him."

"Never," he moaned, because it felt right to completely disregard any feelings he had ever had for the man.

"He failed you."

"Stop it!" Helm looked into her eyes. "Those are excuses that I've already tried on for size. They all fit. They all work. But the fact is, my mother's husband, my sisters' father, is dead by my hand." He realized how Marta had reacted. She hadn't been shocked, angered, disgusted. "I don't want to feel better! Don't **_do_** that!"

"That's the last thing I'm trying to do, Dr. Helm," Marta calmly said. "I'm trying to get you to talk about it. To accept it."

"I have."

"No," she sadly shook her head. "You've lived with it. You've been very successful in covering it up. But you haven't accepted it."

He heard her, and for the first time the feeling of despair crept in. He got a sense of what his problem had been all along, he needed to pay for his deed. He never had. The few people who knew the truth... no one had ever told him that he had done wrong! In fact, he had been promoted for it. 

Startling him, Marta put her hand on his neck to make sure he heard her, "You did what you had to do." She knew. She had not only seen part of his burden, she could read his thoughts at that moment. "Yes, it is wrong to kill anyone. You made your family lose one of their own." He was surprised that she was correctly portraying him as an outsider to his own family. "Would it make you feel better if the task of killing the traitor was left to someone else?"

He panted, but it sounded like, "Marta..." She was so open to him wanting to talk it out, to help him release his guilt, to understand what he had been living with for years. Alone. What would rattle in his head in the dark of night, while traveling long distances with only his horse as company. When he would have to resort to violence.

He gulped in air, hoping it would ease the tightness of the back of his throat. It didn't. Her soothing brown eyes stared at him, evaluated every emotion that flooded over his face. It was as if she understood. Her legs were on each side of his hips. He had finally unloaded his burden on another and she was making it clear for him. She wasn't condescending, she was trying to help him find clarity. 

He clasped his hands on her cheeks and pulled her to him. His kiss was fierce, possessive, his mouth open, his tongue hungrily trying to part her lips. Then he pulled back, softened his desire and tried again. Tender. With the different tactic, he felt Marta's hands wipe the last of his tears away and press her legs tighter against him. Her hands traveled up his back making all his nerve endings snap to attention. Her lips parted.

Helm leaned Marta back onto the table, covering her upper body with his own. He brushed at her shoulder and lowered her neckline with a slide of his hand. He noticed her hair had flared out on the table, surrounding her head like a halo. He lifted up and gazed into her eyes, trying to decipher if he had gone too far with her. 

Marta was as surprised by their fervor as he was. She felt like she was in a trance, dizzy with emotion. She hadn't expected it. In fact while riding into town with Eladio that morning, she hadn't a hint of what the day would bring for her. Marta never expected to be able to see so far into the doctor's past, and be both touched and thrilled by it. He had trusted her enough to bare his soul. His kiss was passionate and she had responded in kind. He had reawakened feelings she had come to think she would never experience again.

Helm misread her stunned silence and immediately straightened up. He adjusted his collar and rebuttoned ones that had come undone. It had all happened too fast. As he straightened his clothes he was angry with himself for letting her into his personal thoughts so fast. It was all too fast. He should have been protective, not open! He was declaring himself a fool and making plans to never put himself in that position again. 

Marta sat up as they both separately collected themselves. Helm was going to apologize for being so forceful, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips and a gentle shake of her head. Marta knew that her gifts worked best when the other didn't have time to prepare, to build up walls, to only let her see the half truths. She was glad he had. She was also glad that he had responded to her, but could see that it was probably the worst thing that could have happened. To know another's secrets was a heavy load to keep.

A hard knock echoed on his door. Helm hurried to the other side of the office and looked at Marta to see if she was prepared for visitors. Marta slipped off the table and quickly straightened her dress. She was readjusting the bandage on her wrist when Helm yelled, "Come in!" 

Eladio hesitantly opened the door, his hat in his hands. "Doctor? Senora? We should be getting back."

"Yes, Eladio," Marta smiled and walked to him. Helm intercepted her stride with a hand on her arm and asked her to wait for a moment.

Helm left her side to walk to the desk. Her gaze shifted between Eladio and the doctor, hoping Eladio hadn't gotten a hint of what had passed between them. Helm returned with a roll of bandages and told her to change them before retiring for the night. 

"Yes, Doctor, and thank you," she said in a voice that was a little more guttural than she had intended. She got the distinct impression that Helm would have wanted to come to change them himself and she blushed once again. "I will."

Helm wanted to tell her so much, if anything to apologize for unburdening himself on her. He wanted to talk with her about her reaction to his past, and also about how she had responded to his kiss. There was no time at the present though as Eladio had started to escort Marta to the door.

During her time in Helm's office, Marta had forgotten that the world even existed. She needed to return home to see if Tessa had made it through another escapade. She hoped that she didn't appear as flustered as she felt on the inside. With a nod of her head and a slight smile, she bid goodbye to Helm. She hoped he could tell that she wanted to see him again to counsel him on his trauma. And to revisit the intimacy they had shared if only for a moment. The sooner the better.

**THE END**

But there will be more

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo



	2. The Queen is Dead!

**ENCOUNTER 2**

**THE QUEEN IS DEAD**

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

  
  


[**Manzana Core - Dr. Helm, the Apple of Our Eye**][2]

[**Jo's Obessessions - HL QoS WWXF Hitchcock**][3]

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: Helm, Marta, Tessa/The Queen, Montoya, Grisham, Vera, OCs Eladio, Rosa, Senor Esteban Nogales and his family

**SUMMARY**: Goodness, news in Santa Helena surprises everyone.

**DISCLAIMER**: Everyone you've heard of is owned by Fireworks. 

All mistakes are mine as it hasn't been beta'd. If anyone cares to, I'd be honored.

Continuing my Helm/Marta universe... from "Encounter". To be found on both web sites above.

I started writing this piece before "The Counterfeit Queen", "The Serpent", etc, aired. So imagine my surprise when I saw those episodes. :-) I decided not to rewrite because this is AU by now anyway. In this universe, and in my heart, Helm was made for Marta.

I also started writing this when I was under the impression that the Hidalgo's lived in town. Maybe they have a townhouse? :-)

~~~~~

**SANTA HELENA**

Eladio held onto Marta's uninjured left hand as they made their way from Helm's office to the Alvarado wagon. Leading with her bandaged left leg as it hurt to bend it, she stepped off the boardwalk to the dirt ground. The supplies that had fallen out of her basket during the fall were placed in the back of the wagon. Immediately after she left the doctor's office, a merchant came running over for her to pay for the supplies and Marta promptly paid him. With one last look to Dr. Helm, who was intently watching her every move, she truly hoped that she would be able to spend more time with him in private. 

Marta couldn't tell if others could see any remnant of the hell Dr. Helm had revisited by looking at him, but she could. He looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She also hoped she wasn't still flustered from his passion, both emotional and physical. Eladio kept a hold on her hand and was ready to help Marta onto the wagon seat when there was a great ruckus heard down the street. A wagon pulled by two galloping Appaloosa roared toward the square. People rushed out of the way to make a path for it and a table of linens from the shipment toppled and was run over by hooves and the wheels of the wagon. 

Helm rushed from the stoop in front of his office to see if the horses were out of control and see if he could stop them. He had controlled many a wild horse who had gotten spooked during intense fighting. He looked over the residents to see if anyone had been run over. The wagon came to a full out screeching halt in front of the Alvarado wagon. If Eladio hadn't suddenly lifted and carried Marta out of the way, she would have been knocked over from the frightened jerk their horses made to get out of the way of the intruders.

Before Marta knew what happened, she was held by both Eladio and Helm at the back of Tessa's wagon after the doctor had protectively ran to her. Then just as suddenly, Helm let go of her waist when he knew she was steady on her feet. The worried and thankful looks they exchanged was broken by the cries of the wagon master who had just roared into town. He stood up on the seat of the wagon and announced to all, "The Queen!" The crowd noise rose from the ones who were able to see into the back of the wagon. Shrieks were heard from women who had spied the load in the back. The man hollered, "The Queen is dead!"

Marta moaned, covered her eyes with her hands, shook her head and fell back against Helm's chest. He spun her around in his arms and laid a hand on her back. He looked down at her closed, clenched eyes and perceived her reaction to have been pretty personal. He asked her, "Do you know who the Queen of Swords is?"

"No," Marta quickly recovered. "But she is our only hope against tyranny." She wanted to rush to the wagon and see her for herself. _Tessa can't be dead_! The last scare she had when The Queen was shot and threw herself off the cliff to escape capture; when Marta had thought she was dead for most of a day was enough. _It just can't be true_!

Colonel Luis Montoya walked out of his office with the thought that his most craved dream had just come true. He distinctly heard the words, 'The Queen is dead!' _Is it my birthday? How I've longed to hear those words_! He arrived on his balcony to see the town people gathered around a wagon that held a prone shapely figure dressed in black. He let out a reflective pronouncement of glee and saw Grisham marching to the back of the wagon. Montoya yelled out, "**_No one touches her until I do!_**", then ran to the stairs.

Grisham stopped immediately and looked up at his Lord and Master's lair. He then ordered his troops to keep back the people. Vera was mortified by the news and looked to Grisham for the truth of the situation. His eyes only glanced in her direction to nod, then saw her husband, Don Hidalgo, rushing as fast as he could after a heavy lunch with other Dons to his wife's side.

Dr. Helm ran to the back of the wagon to see for himself but was pushed back by soldiers. "I'm a doctor! She may just be injured. Let me examine her!"

"You heard him," Grisham tilted his head in the direction of Montoya's house. "No one touches her until he does."

"And you just snap to attention like a nice little lap dog, don't you?" Helm spouted at the man.

Grisham got into Helm's face, "I'm military obeying the orders of my commander. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Before Helm could punch Grisham as he had wanted to from the first time he met him, Montoya barged between them to demand, "Let me see her!" 

Montoya reached the wagon that hopefully held his prize. The thorn in his side. The burr in his saddle. The devil in a shapely package. Montoya saw her black leather boot and took in a deep, enjoyable breath. Then he saw her red sash. Her fine silk blouse. Long dark brown hair. A portion of the black lace mask that covered the upper two-thirds of her face.

Montoya stood erect, wanting to savor the moment. He had the notion to rub his hands in glee, but didn't in front of the peasants. He couldn't show emotion of any kind, especially happiness. Never show your weakness. It would only help his peons know how to get the better of him. He calmly climbed into the back of the wagon and turned the Queen's body over. She was a lump, her face remained on its side. Montoya knelt down to see it more clearly and to brush her hair back.

Marta had drifted toward the back of the wagon. Dr. Helm motioned for her to join him where he stood. From his angle he had a clear path by which to see the Queen's face. Marta gasped when she saw the woman in clothes she saw Tessa had worn when she left the hacienda that morning.

Dr. Helm bitterly asked, "Is she alive?"

"No," Montoya couldn't help but smile as he checked her body. There was a bullet hole on her stomach and a large blood stain on the wood of the wagon.

"Let me see," Helm tried again.

"No!" Montoya said, motioning to his men to hold the doctor back. They didn't have to told twice. Helm tried to fight off the three who held him back. Montoya smiled, "Now for the unveiling."

Marta felt like she was going to collapse and grabbed Rosa's hand, who she had just noticed was standing next to her. They huddled together, both in agony over the loss of the Queen, along with all the people of the town who had come to look upon her as their savior. 

Montoya laid his hand upon the lace mask and pulled it up and off her face. Marta couldn't look. Helm stretched his neck so he could. Grisham pushed some soldiers back and placed himself at the side of the wagon to see for himself. Montoya stared at the face of his adversary. Smiling, he had never been so happy as that moment when The Queen of Swords was truly dead. A giggle escaped his throat that nauseated and infuriated all the people, but they would never let it show. They also knew the concept of keeping your enemies in the dark.

Marta started to cry and held onto Rosa for support, who was doing the same thing. All hope was lost now. They no longer had a warrior to champion the cause of justice. She had lost her charge. Her daughter. Her best friend in the world. Then... Montoya uttered the most peculiar thing Marta had ever heard. He asked, "Who is she? Who has been masquerading as a modern day Robin Hood?"

Marta's head snapped around to look at him. _Surely Colonel Montoya would know Senorita Maria Theresa Alvarado. He didn't know the woman_? Marta's heart leapt, and caught a glimpse of the dead woman when Montoya stepped down from the wagon. Marta wanted to jump for joy, shout from the rooftops, dance. _It's not Tessa_! But she couldn't show her relief of knowing that the true Queen of Swords was still alive. She still had to protect her identity. The dead woman was only an impostor who wore the exact same outfit and had the exact color and length of hair as Tessa, but she definitely wasn't. Marta could tell the woman's nose was longer, her cheeks were narrower. Her bone structure wasn't half as perfect as her Tessa's. For further, glorious proof that it wasn't Tessa in that back of that wagon was that neither Montoya nor Grisham recognized her.

Marta's face was a mask of sorrow to match the other townspeople that had fooled even Dr. Helm. He remembered the all of the encounters he had with her. The pain of the people who she protected mixed with his own rediscovered pain and he yelled, "Who did this?! What happened?"

Montoya turned in his direction and asked, "Yes, who did do this? I want to speak to the one who killed the Queen of Swords." But he didn't continue his thought out loud, _So I can handsomely reward him_.

~~~~~

The corpse of 'The Queen' was dragged from the back of the wagon by soldiers to Montoya's warehouse. While Eladio was in the midst of talking with other men of the community about their lost vigilante, Marta told him that she wanted to go home. Eladio said, "We're going to round up a posse! We have to find out who killed our Queen!"

"Eladio!" Marta got his attention by the loud tone of voice that she had never used. "We must tell Senorita Alvarado what has happened, and there is work to be done."

Helm had heard and suggested that he could take her home as it would give them a chance to talk about what had happened between the two of them. He also wanted to make sure she wouldn't mention to anyone anything from his past that she had seen.

"That won't be necessary, Dr. Helm," Marta guardedly said, trying to keep at a distance from him. It was strange for her to suddenly act in a cordial, polite manner once they were in public. What they had shared in his office couldn't be advertised. As soon as he came to his senses, she figured that he would be grateful for her turning his advances down.

"Robert," he corrected her. "My name is Robert. Please use it." He was going to go on to say that social salutations were no longer right between them.

Marta was in a whirl from so many things. She exhibited passion with him that hadn't been proper that was like a dream. She had seen deep into the doctor's past and didn't know how to handle it. A woman masquerading as the Queen had been killed and Tessa could also be dead. She needed to get home and check on her. The temperature was so damn **_hot_**! "It's the heat, Dr. Helm. It makes us all do things we shouldn't." 

He stepped back, taking that as a slam of the door, that she was embarrassed by what happened, worse yet, she was disgusted by him. After what he had done to his father, he felt he deserved it. 

Marta thought that may have been how it sounded, but for her own sanity and emotional safety, she let it stand. The she thought, _The hell with safety_, and took his hand. "I'm sorry. We do need to talk, but not now."

He nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. Another moment passed between them. Marta's mind swam, not knowing if she had another vision or if the passion from his office was still lingering. She took her hand back and yelled, "Eladio! We must leave. Revenge will still be a strong emotion after our chores are completed."

Dr. Helm watched them go and then looked to the warehouse where the Queen's body was taken. Women could be heard crying. Men could be heard planning their revenge, hunting down who killed their Queen. To Robert, they were both useless exercises. He wasn't at all interested in joining the man of the community in a posse, but he could very well might find out the identity of the killer's gun in his own way.

~~~~~

**ALVARADO HACIENDA**

Tessa sunk down into the metal tub filled with soapy water in the parlor. She had told the servant that she didn't want the water warmed too much, just barely tepid. It was just right. After hours in the hot sun, cinched in a black outfit complete with corset, she thought she would completely melt away. No rustlers had shown up. Nothing happened that morning except she had dust imbedded in her mouth and nose. 

She slid down holding her breath and completely immersed her upper body and head. The sensation of being under water made her heart beat amplify and had it's calming effect. The opening and sudden slamming of the door jarred her, making her burst out of the tub. A wave of water flew from her soaked hair when she turned toward the door and she wiped her eyes. 

"**_Tessa_**!" Marta grabbed her into her arms and held on tight, as if her life depended on it. She breathed a true sigh of relief, "Tessa, you are all right."

"Of course, Marta," Tessa somewhat giggled, surprised by the sudden overwhelming show of emotion. She had thought of Marta as a surrogate mother since her own beloved mother had passed away and Tessa was warmed by Marta's reaction. The reaction to seeing her was too much, too strong, too strange. Tessa asked, "Marta, what's the matter?"

Marta released her, sunk to the side of the tub and averted her eyes from her naked charge. "I'm so relieved. I'm sorry."

Tessa took her hand, "There's no need. What happened?"

"The Queen is dead."

"What?" Tessa laughed. "What does that mean?" Tessa lost her joviality. "Did the Tarot tell you something?"

"No, I saw her with my own eyes."

"**_I'm_**__ the Queen, Marta. What on earth are you talking about?" She realized that Marta's hand was bandaged and inspected it. "What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, nothing," Marta said, not wanting to share her stumbling. "When I was in town, a man rode in on a wagon that contained the body of a dead woman. She was dressed as the Queen."

"What?!"

"I thought it was you, until Montoya took off her mask, and thank God it wasn't."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. No one knows. No one recognized her. They all think the Queen is dead."

Tessa is stunned. "Someone has been impersonating me?"

"Impersonating the Queen, not you."

"Marta, we're one and the same."

Marta seethed. "Montoya was quite pleased. I thought he was going to plan a fiesta right then and there."

"So...," Tessa smiled again. "He wouldn't be expecting the Queen's appearance any time soon..."

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing right now, it's just that... that angle might come in handy. The Queen will have the upper hand if he's not expecting her." Tessa saw Marta's sad eyes and thought about the woman who was dead. "It's terrible, Marta. How did she die?"

"She was shot."

"Why? Why was this woman killed and why was she wearing my clothes?" 

They looked at each other and Marta stood, holding Tessa's robe up for her to get in to. They ran to her secret closet where she stored the Queen's clothes and weapons. There were three black silk blouses, pants, boots. The clothes she wore that day were in a heap on the floor. "None of my clothes are gone. She must have seen the Queen before and duplicated her disguise."

Marta picked up the shed clothing and inspected them for bullet holes. Habit. To her relief, she saw none. "But why impersonate you?"

"Where was she when she was killed?" Tessa wrapped a towel around her hair.

"I don't know."

"You didn't stay in town to find out?"

"No. I was worried about you. I came right home."

"Marta, you should have asked. You should have found out that information. You should..."

"I am **_sorry_**, Tessa!" Marta yelled. "I was worried that even though she was dead, that you could also be, but they just hadn't found your body yet!" The two women looked at each other processing everything that had happened. Marta shook her head and declared, "I can't take it, Tessa. I know you are doing good things. I know people look to you for... I can't take the worrying."

Tessa hugged the gypsy who had been more than a maid, a servant, a confidante. Marta had been a sister, a mother, and most of all, a conscience. "You know I can't stop now. Father showed me my destiny. If I'm killed, that's my destiny also. I can't stop, Marta. Don't even ask me to do that."

Marta sighed and look a deep breath. She didn't have the right to ask Tessa to stop being the only thing the peasants had on their side, but it was so hard. Tessa laid her head against Marta's and said, "I know you worry and I love you for that. I love you for so many things. I need your strength. And I need to go into town. I have to gossip with Vera to see if I can find out who the woman was and why she was killed. If anyone knows, she does."

Marta reacted to Vera's name. That morning started out because she was 'jealous' of her closeness and being able to talk openly to Dr. Robert Helm. As it turned out, Marta had no reason to be and was overwhelmed that she had seen so far into the man, and had shared a ... passion? An intimate moment? A moment of madness? A lunatic fantasy? Marta didn't know how to classify the last few minutes alone with Dr. Helm in his office. Her confused emotions toward the doctor was nothing compared to her wonder about his feelings for her.

Her thoughts were so far into an hour before that she didn't realize that Tessa had chucked the robe and stepped back into the tub. "Would you wash my hair, Marta? I should look nice when I make my appearance in town."

"Of course." Marta needed something to do to take her mind off the events of the day. Marta tried hard to not think about Helm--she should be thinking about the poor dead woman--but she couldn't help it, and she felt shame. When her mind drifted to the imposter, Marta could only think that it could have been Tessa.

As Marta scrubbed her hair, Tessa said, "I should wear a nice dress, it would be expected of me. Should it be black?"

"I should go with you and have that final fitting with Senora Hidalgo."

Tessa smiled, "You aren't making it more elegant than any of mine, are you?"

"Of course not. Just pretty enough for her to be pleased."

"Good, the Public Face of Maria Theresa Alvarado would never stand for that and I'd have to fire you."

They both laugh. Marta was so relieved she hadn't lost her and her heart burst with pride that she had a little something to do with how the young woman had turned out. "Oh, and I found the most lovely rose colored silk that I can turn into a beautiful gown for you."

"Maria Theresa is very pleased by that Marta."

Marta poured cups of water over Tessa's long hair to rinse it as she smiled at how Tessa had completely immersed herself into three distinct personalities. The public face of Maria Theresa, The Queen of Swords, and the true Tessa that wasn't courageous to the point of being a Super Woman, or the bratty, spoiled rich girl. To Marta, Tessa was still the willful, smart child that she loved unconditionally.

~~~~~

**SANTA HELENA**

Dr. Robert Helm--the strap of his doctor bag firmly in hand--pushed the door ajar and listened for any reaction. He nudged it open a little more to stick his head in to scan the inside of the warehouse that held the Queen's body. All his years of using and knowing firearms could make it possible for him to at least decipher the sort of bullet that was used to end the life of the Queen. He would be able to tell if it was military or civilian for one. By his way of thinking, and how he had read Montoya's reaction, no one was ever going to investigate her death. Helm's investigation was the least she deserved for the good she had done.

No one was in the warehouse. It only held supplies from the shipment that people hadn't purchased, which Montoya received at a discount, and the Queen's corpse. Helm spotted a box of chocolates on top of an open crate. After taking another quick look around for other interlopers, he slipped it into his pocket. 

The Queen was lying atop two adjacent boxes in the far, dark corner. He supposed it was to hide her from the masses who wanted the sort of funeral mass fit for royalty. It was unsettling for him to see her, just tossed there. He couldn't do his work in such a dark corner, at such a low position. He set his bag down by a window, stacked up some wooden boxes so she would be at his hip level, then respectfully lifted her. 

She had stiffened since the time she had died so it was clumsy to carry her. As gently as he could, Helm laid her on the make-shift operating table. Before going about his duty, he stared at her face. She looked so different now that she was unmasked. He actually had the thought that the Queen was Senorita Alvarado when he cut the ropes that bound her wrists in front of the gold mine. _No one should ever assume_. The woman had done wonders for the people, had made changes, had saved lives, had fascinated him because she seemed so young yet had skills he hadn't seen in experienced soldiers he fought alongside. The only thing that had gnawed at him was the many corpses she'd left in her wake. He had eschewed that behavior and hated that she killed for him. _Why was that guard's life less important than his own_? Helm was positive that he'd done worse than any of Montoya's guards.

As he looked at her, he wondered if she would receive the funeral or the prayers by devoted mourners that she deserved. Helm didn't believe in God, but they did. She probably had. He did the best he could by saying a short prayer that he hoped something somewhere would hear on her behalf. The prayer was to save her soul. After saying it, he wondered if he was even worthy enough to have given it. 

Helm shook it off. He had done the best he could for her 'afterlife' and decided to do his best with the here and now. He opened his bag and set it alongside her on the boxes. As gently as he could, Helm unhooked her corset, unbuttoned her blouse and loosened the top of her pants to expose the gunshot wound. He took out his scalpel and made the entry wound longer, spread the skin open so he could see into her cavity to search for the bullet. As it turned out, there were many metal fragments.

He set his scalpel down to get a set of tongs from his bag to search for and pull out the largest chunk. Then there was a hand on his arm. Montoya asked, "My good doctor, what do you think you're doing?"

Helm jumped, and then recovered his cool in a matter of seconds even though his heart was pounding. "I'm doing my work."

"This one is beyond remedy, Dr. Helm," Montoya said as he bent his head to the side, indicating his prize. He still couldn't hide his pleasure.

"But her killer can be exposed."

"In what way?"

"If I can find the bulk of the bullet, I'll know the gun it came from."

Montoya laughed and incredulously asked, "How?"

"I've seen a lot of bullets in my day. Each bullet is different."

Montoya openly smiled, "There is more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" One of the pleasant things that he had found out about the 'doctor' was that he was a deserter. Montoya hadn't yet found out why, but he would. When he searched for a doctor to bring to the town that he lorded over, finding out that little tidbit made Helm a wonderful candidate. He would be someone he could control. Given enough time, he would find out everything there was to know about Lt. Robert Helm.

Helm didn't answer, only started poking inside her body for the bullet fragment again. Montoya took the tongs out of his hand. "That is not necessary. The killer will only want a reward. If no one claimed responsibility, it is because they don't want anyone to know who did the deed. What is it to you?"

Helm resisted the urge to knock the Colonel over and continue his work, but stated instead, "Even a dead woman is still a patient as long as she belongs to this village."

"Ah, but does she?" Montoya smiled again, "Or rather, **_did_** she?"

"You're a happy man."

"I'm dancing on the ceiling." Montoya waved his hand and his men entered farther into the warehouse. Helm knew he wouldn't be able to do anything more to her, but he could preserve her dignity. He quickly closed her blouse over her body.

Montoya hollered, "Bury her, she's stinking up the place." Montoya sweetly smiled in Helm's direction as he said, "Plant a manzana tree on top of her. So I can eat an apple a day. To keep the doctor away."

Helm slowly shook his head back and forth staring at the Colonel. "You're really full of yourself."

"You don't know the half of it."

~~~~~

**HIDALGO HACIENDA**

Vera Hidalgo stood atop a chair so Marta could pin the hemline of her new lilac dress she had made. Tessa was dressed in an appropriate black dress that she hadn't worn since news of her father's death reached her. She sat on a divan fanning herself as she prodded Vera to talk of anything she had heard about the Queen. 

Marta stood, "I've finished. If you would step out of it, I can stitch the hem."

Vera smiled, looked at herself one last time wearing the dress in the mirror and then accepted Marta's hand to step off the chair. She was wearing her highest heels that she would wear with the dress and so that the line of the hem would be perfect and stumbled. "I haven't worn these shoes very often," she said in explanation.

Tessa remarked, "They're marvelous shoes. Wherever did you get them?"

"Gaspar purchased them in Monterey. Aren't they stunning?"

Marta unhooked Vera's dress and she slipped out of it. Tessa continued, "Oh yes. I just have to have a pair for myself." Marta shot her a glance, and saw Tessa wink, then roll her eyes. They shared a knowing smile that they were just pacifying the Senora and her interests. 

Marta said, "Tessa, would you mind if I sew out in the square? I would like to talk to Rosa about the silk."

Vera's head spun around, "What silk?"

Tessa hurriedly told Marta, "Yes. I'll be fine here."

As Marta left with her sewing bag and Vera's dress over her arm, she heard Vera once again ask, "What silk?"

~~~~~

Marta settled herself on a bench in the shade in front of the blacksmith's shop and put down a blanket to protect Vera's dress from the ground and gathered it loosely in her lap so she could finish the seam. Rosa hadn't happened by. Along with herself, she noticed that everyone who wasn't in the direct employ of Montoya had a black band on their arms.

Helm walked out of warehouse, escorted by two soldiers. The Queen's body had been taken out the back door so no one would see her. People of the town were taking turns lighting a candle in the church for her soul. As Helm returned to his office, he spotted Marta sitting on the bench.

He stared at her as she spotted him and quickly averted her eyes. He didn't like that, he took it to mean that she was appalled by him. In fact, she was embarrassed by the way her heart flipped when she noticed him. He was even more handsome than he had been in her mind's eye.

Helm wanted to talk to Marta again, needed to see her, be close to her. He started to walk to her, but a woman who Helm knew was her friend, Rosa, sat on what should have been his place on Marta's bench. He went into his office to retrieve a roll of bandages then walked to them. Rosa saw him and whispered to Marta how handsome Dr. Helm was, for a gringo.

"Yes," Marta smiled still furiously stitching up the dress, then was surprised when he took her arm. She had seen him walk into his office and certainly didn't expect him to appear.

"Marta, how are your wounds?"

"Fine, Dr. Helm."

Rosa was floored that he would just walk up and talk to Marta. Sure, he treated her wounds earlier, he was a doctor. But to pointedly converse with her out in public was above and beyond the call of duty. Highly unusual. He was of a different class and all the servants knew their place. The fact that Marta was a gypsy with healing potions and powers of her own completely amazed her that the doctor would need to make a follow-up visit.

Helm looked at Rosa and politely asked her to excuse them. She did, with a look to Marta, and a knowing smile. After they were alone, Helm asked Marta if she would prefer going to his office, or if he could check her bandaging there. Marta wanted nothing more than to be completely alone with him again, but said she shouldn't. "Tessa will be ready soon and she should be able to find me."

"She's in town? Now? How is she feeling?"

"She's sad, Dr. Helm. As we all are with the loss of the Queen."

He nodded in agreement and sat next to her on the bench. He waited for her to stop stitching, but she didn't. So, taking matters into his own hands, he look hers. He slowly unwrapped the bandaging he had done just hours earlier, but only looked at her face, into her eyes. He whispered, "How are you? Really?"

"I'm fine, Dr. Helm."

He smiled. "That seems to be your mantra today."

He saw the wound and how it was clean but swollen, red. She hadn't changed the bandaging or administered any of her own remedies. "Is my modern medicine good enough for your wound after all?"

"I haven't had time to take care of it." He dabbed a clean damp cloth on the scrape and rebound it in fresh bandaging. "The more important question, Dr. Helm, is how you are doing. What are you feeling?"

He looked to her, amazed. Had she gotten the gist that he was excited just to be in her presence, although leery of what she might think of him as a man? He said, "I'm confused. I need to talk it out with you. We were so rudely interrupted."

She blushed. Her instinct was to not talk at all, but just spend time with the man. He whispered to her, "What do you think of me?"

He was overwhelming. Marta asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you think the worse of me."

"No, not at all," Marta was thrilled he was talking so blatantly about their shared kiss. She felt like a school girl once again, something she hadn't been or felt in years and years. The doctor had a power over her that seemed to make her mind turn to mush. Her situation was hopeless and she knew it. She was fascinated by Helm but couldn't, shouldn't do anything about it. She was a servant and he was from a class family. He had been a soldier and military was held in high esteem in America. They were from two very different worlds. 

Helm leaned close to her and whispered, "You **_did_** see what I had done?"

She looked around to make sure that no one could hear her and said, "Your father. Yes. It was terrible that you were put in that position, Dr. Helm. If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else. That's why I asked how you are doing. It wasn't the crime, Dr. Helm, it was that you had to do it that makes me sad."

Marta continued without a thought to who may be around, or how Helm's reaction was. "I don't miss your father. I can live very well knowing that he is gone." Because she had spoken so boldly, she was going to stop, but couldn't. She continued, "Forgive me for saying that. He was traitor. Devotion to family, country, morals, they're the most important things in life. I could even go further to say that I am glad he is dead. He killed many innocent people by his deeds."

Because he was stunned, she fell silent, knowing she had gone too far. "I am sorry for confessing, but you asked."

Helm slightly nodded, the only gesture that was visible to her or to anyone who happened to have looked. What he was feeling inside was complete and utter relief. He still had to accept his deed in his own mind, and that he never really had a chance to know his father, love his father. He never had because of pride, laziness. Marta had accepted it with no hindrances. He had been so scared to reveal the truth of himself because it ate him up inside. One day, he just might be able to forgive himself and he had Marta to thank.

"I'm sorry," Marta said again, not knowing at all what he was thinking as he wasn't showing her anything. 

He quickly took her hands in his and said, "There is no need. Thank you." He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again right then and there. In front of everyone on the square. To take her into his arms and carry her off to his room. The months since first laying eyes on her and just thinking she was attractive had grown. He had tasted her and his appetite had turned to hunger. He knew more about her soul, her limitations, her wants and needs. But he couldn't. He couldn't even lift her skirt to tend to her wounded knee without raising a few eyebrows.

As his face lost it's tightening and he slowly smiled, Marta knew that he wasn't offended by what she had said. To the contrary. She fully realized that he wanted her. There was no doubt. His neck was turning red. His eyes were glazed over. The only part of him that touched her, his hands, were very warm. He whispered, "Will you come into my office?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. 

Just then, Tessa arrived ready to go home. "Dr. Helm, good afternoon. Marta, we must go."

Marta started to gather Vera's dress and stood. Helm stood with her. "Senorita," he directed toward Tessa. "I'm in the middle of conversation with Marta. Could you spare her for the rest of the afternoon? I promise to have her back at the hacienda by dinnertime."

Tessa looked at Marta, who hadn't registered anything on her face except surprise, which Tessa didn't understand. Then back at Robert Helm. "I suppose... but that's very odd, isn't it? We have work to do. Marta, I talked with Vera's butler and he... gave me some information."

"Information from a butler?" Helm smiled.

"Yes," Tessa said, focusing on how Marta hadn't yet moved. In fact, she was looking out of the corner of her eye at Helm. "Dr. Helm, it's a private matter. About the running of my estate. Marta? Can we leave now?"

Marta flustered, "Yes, of course, I must go back." She exchanged a look with Helm, who wasn't pleased. She could feel Helm's hand on her back, then he helped her gather Vera's entire dress in her arms. "I must get the dress back to Senora Hidalgo and then I will be ready."

Tessa told her, "Hurry. I'll be at the wagon."

Helm watched as Marta scurried down the square back to Vera's and wondered if she was doing so because it was expected of her to snap to attention when the mistress called, or if she was running away from him. He definitely had to talk to her without interruptions. He sighed and regarded Maria Teresa, who's plans were obviously more important than anyone else's. When Tessa climbed into the carriage with the help of Eladio, Helm was impressed that she was affected enough about the Queen's passing that she was wearing black, but thought she went overboard by dressing herself in head to toe black on such short notice. Also, she was a Donna. The Dons Helm had talked to didn't seem to care one way or the other about the Queen, except if they were one of her targets.

He called to her, "You seem to be handling the heat quite well, Senorita."

Tessa remembered what alibi Marta would use if anyone asked about her absence while shopping this morning and replied, "Yes. Thank you for your concern."

"Oh, of course," he said as he lazily stepped down from the boardwalk to her carriage. "That's my job."

"And you do it so well."

"How would you know? I don't believe I've ever treated you. Except for headaches, and you still have them."

Tessa recognized her bungle. She was talking about his delicate but knowledgeable handling of the Queen's wound after being shot herself while tied to a post. The only time he had treated Tessa Alvarado was when she told him she had a headache so she could prod him for answers. She hurriedly said with a winning smile, "But I hear things, Dr. Helm. You're one of the treasures of Santa Helena."

He laughed. "Then they're in more trouble that I even suspected."

Marta returned Helm took her arm, helping her into the carriage. He whispered to her, "I will talk to you later."

"Yes," Marta said as Tessa signaled the horses to ride. The carriage swept down the square as Marta continued looking back at Helm, getting further and further away from her.

~~~~~

**ALVARADO HACIENDA**

The ride back to the hacienda was silent because Eladio was in the back and could hear any conversation. Just after arriving home, Tessa jumped out and told him, "Eladio, I won't be needing the carriage for the rest of the day. Would you take of it?"

"Yes, 'm," he said, moving to the horses toward the stables. 

Marta had mechanically hopped down to the ground and followed Tessa into the house, her mind still on the man in town. When she entered the foyer, she stood in thought trying to tell herself that it was just the heat of the moment. The intensity of Helm's past. That he only wanted to see her again to make sure she wouldn't tell anyone his secret. Any excuse but to admit that she was completely enamored with him and it wouldn't be a possible coupling at all, for so many reasons.

She noticed that Tessa wasn't to be seen. "Tessa?" She walked through the house to find her. Tessa was half undressed in the secret closet. "What are you doing?"

"I have to be Queen and ride."

"Why? Where?"

"Do you know what I was told?" Tessa motioned for Marta to untie the back of her petticoat. "That woman may not have been a champion for justice. She may only have dressed as me to rob people! Can you imagine?"

It felt freeing to be able to take a deep breath after she was untied from her formal attire. Tessa took many deep breaths. Marta asked, "What are you saying? What did the Senora tell you?"

"Not Vera, Jorge, her butler. He heard a rumor that's been floating around for a couple of weeks that the Queen robbed the Nogales', you know, the ranchero down by the sea. Can you imagine! People had been talking about the Queen in that way, quietly, to themselves. They were scared to speak the truth because the Queen of Swords is beginning to be like a Goddess in the county. I hadn't heard any of that! Had you heard anything? From Rosa? Or any of the workers?"

"No, of course not." Marta was as stunned as Tessa. She thought back, "Yes, I did hear that the Nogales' were robbed, but I certainly didn't know that it was the Queen. I would have brought it up in conversation if I had."

"I was thinking of paying a visit on the Nogales' as Tessa, to give them money because I just found out about their plight. But I can't do that. I **_hate_** that Maria Teresa can't be so giving."

Marta held up the Queen's blouse for Tessa to slip her arms in the sleeves. "So, I'm going to pay a visit as the Queen."

"Senor Nogales will probably shoot you on sight."

"Marta," Tessa smiled back at her as she said, "I'm not going to waltz up to the front door. I can take care of myself. At least, the Queen can." She buttoned the blouse as she mused, "How much longer the charades need to be nurtured, I don't know. Maybe when Montoya's dead? I find the truth of my father's death? Then I can finally be myself and the world will be perfect."

Marta handed her the corset and massaged Tessa's shoulders. "Life will never be perfect, Tessita. But it will be a grand day when people aren't under tyrannical rule, and the person responsible for the Don's death is held accountable."

Marta shivered when she saw Tessa fully dressed as the Queen. There could be so many people after her. Danger from so many directions. Not only Montoya, Grisham, any of the soldiers who had orders to shoot to kill on sight, but also Senor Nogales. He was a widower who had lost his wife in childbirth that last winter and had children to raise on his own. After being robbed once, he could be like a mother bear protecting his young. Marta felt terrible for him that he had been robbed. She seethed with anger that a woman would masquerade as a savior, then turn the tables on someone who laid his trust in her. 

Senor Nogales was a young man, not yet thirty. He had to be somewhat naive. He probably opened the front door for the Queen and poured her a cup of tea before she cleaned out his cupboards. If the rumor was true, there could be more of the fake Queen's victims that would like to take revenge on her Tessa. The knowledge that the fake Queen was dead and that news had spread throughout the land didn't ease Marta's mind.

Marta grabbed Tessa before she could walk out to the stable with her weaponry in all its places. The dagger in her boot, her whip on her belt, the sword in her hand. Their hug was long, tight and mutual. Marta whispered, "Watch your back, Tessita."

"I always do, Marta. Thank you. I'll be back in no time."

Then, Marta's interminable wait for her return began.

Tessa walked out the side door and ran to the stable so none of her workers could see her during the magic hour. The last gasp of sunlight meant that the workers were finishing up in the fields and would be returning to their homes on the Alvarado property for a waiting meal by their wives. After a good meal, they would probably gather around a fire to sing songs before turning in for the night. As Tessa made her way to Chico's stable, she wondered if she would ever be welcomed at one of their gatherings. Marta attended them all the time. Tessa had once, but everyone never forgot that she was their mistress. No one had a good time. 

As she saddled Chico Tessa knew that one day she would be a part of them. They would accept her. Be comfortable around her. One day. She climbed atop Chico and clicked the reins. Before long, they were roaring down the lane toward the Nogales hacienda.

~~~~~

**NOGALES HACIENDA**

Esteban Nogales had just finished his meal with his three children. His 12 year old daughter, Sofia, had her nose stuck in a book that he had purchased for her before that diabolic Queen had taken their nest egg. His five year old son, Alessandro, was still grumbling about the carrots that Sofia had cooked. His eight month daughter was asleep on his arm. He motioned for Sofia and asked, "Could you lay Maria down for the night?"

"Yes, Papa," Sofia immediately said. She took her little sister in his arms and kissed her head as she walked to the bedroom that they shared. 

Esteban stood and started taking plates to the wash basin and ordered his son to do the same. "I'm still hungry, Papa," the boy complained.

"You should have finished your food," was all Esteban said as he cleared the table. 

"I hate carrots."

Esteban shuffled the hair on his son's head and said, "We can't afford a cook this year. Be nice to Sofia, she's doing the best she can."

"Does Natalia hate us?"

"Of course not," Esteban said in surprise. "What gave you that idea?"

"She left us."

"She doesn't hate you. Natalia had been with us since before you were born. She had to leave because I can not afford to pay her." Esteban noticed that his five year old didn't understand. "Reales. I know you don't understand, and maybe this is an important lesson for you to learn. I'll explain finances to you. We have to save for a little while. Hopefully she'll be back."

Alessandro wrapped his arms around Esteban's legs and started to cry. "I want Mama."

Esteban's heart tightened. "I do too." He bent down and hugged his son. "We'll see her again one day. She's looking over us to make sure we are fine."

"Then why did that bad woman come? Couldn't Mama stop her?"

"No," Esteban tenderly said. "Mama can only watch." He heard his workers talking that day that the Queen was dead. Esteban had never in his life been glad for someone else's death, but when he heard, his heart leapt with joy. "We are fine. Are we? We still all have each other."

Alessandro nodded and patted his father's back and he held him. Esteban laughed. "Now eat the rest of your carrots if you're still hungry."

"All right," Alessandro grumbled. 

~~~~~

The children were all in their beds and another day had come to a close. Esteban was finishing his nightcap and staring out his bedroom window at the sea down the rocky cliff. His eyes floated from the window to the portrait of his late wife, Maria Louisa. It was on the wall above her vanity. The low dressing table and her upholstered stool that she sat at every morning and every night to brush her long black hair, to put on her makeup. He hadn't had the heart to touch a thing. To move it would be violating her memory. If only he had gotten her to Dr. Helm sooner, he may have been able to save both Maria Louisa and their new born daughter. Esteban knew Helm did the best he could. He had said it was infection that claimed his beloved wife. There wasn't anything the doctor could do.

Esteban looked back out the window at the crashing waves in the moonlight. He had to get his mind off that terrible day he lost his wife, but gained another beautiful daughter, or he wouldn't be able to sleep. He heard a door open in another part of the house and turned around to listen. He figured it was Sofia, who was a sleepwalker. One night he found her sitting on the front stoop after walking out of her room and out of the house. He rushed out of the bedroom to see where she could have gone this time. If the door opened, she could wander outside and get hurt.

When he ran into the living room, he got the shock of his life. The Queen of Swords was standing before him. "**_Out_**!" Esteban yelled. "Get out of my house! There's nothing else to take."

"I didn't come here to rob you, Senor." Tessa held her hand up and hoped he would calm down. She looked him over and didn't see a firearm. "That wasn't me. I swear that wasn't me."

He looked at the door of his son's room and was scared that since she hadn't come there to rob them, she had returned to harm them. She had lied the day she robbed them, he didn't believe a word she said now. He started to move toward the bureau in the living room that held his gun.

This had been the first time she had ever laid eyes on Senor Nogales and didn't realize that he was so young. So handsome. So tall. His dark brown wavy hair looked as if it hadn't been groomed for a while. Then she realized that a barber was the last thing on his mind after he had lost his fortune. "Senor," she started again. "I came to talk to you about what happened with the other Queen. I am not her. I promise that it was someone else who took advantage of you and your family."

"There are two Queens? Impossible."

His hand opened the top drawer and immediately the Queen was there, shutting it. "There is only one Queen, Senor. Me. The fake Queen, the robbing Queen, is dead."

Her hand covered his on the drawer and he yanked his hand down, not wanting to touch the intruder. He didn't even want to look at her, certainly didn't want her in his home again. "What do you want?"

"The truth. I want you to know the truth. And to give you this," she said as she reached into her pocket.

Esteban jumped back, fully expecting her to pull out a knife or gun. "No, I have children. I'm all they have."

What she pulled out of her pocket was a leather pouch. "This is 100 reales, Senor. It was all I could spare at the moment." She held the pouch out to him. He hadn't moved. "Take it."

"Never. I don't want anything from you, except for you to leave and forget where I live."

She tossed the pouch on the table in front of the red velvet couch. "Senor, I have to know what happened when she was here. Who she is. If she had accomplices. If there are more that needs to be stopped before another family can be affected. Please help me."

He was taken back by the softness of her voice and non-threatening bearing of her body language. As he looked her over, he did get the feeling that she wasn't the same woman who had visited before. The other woman had been gruff, had pushed Sofia to the floor, demanded everything, was taller. The woman before him was more feminine, kindness oozed from every pore. He looked at the pouch on the table. "How much is in there?"

"100 reales, Senor. I would have given you more, but I can't. I have...." she was going to say workers, but that might have given her identity away. She had to be careful. In the short time in the man's presence, she was ready to drop all of her defenses and couldn't understand it. "People who rely on me," was how she finished her sentence.

"You don't have to do that. People may need the money more. It wasn't your fault I was... stupid."

"You weren't stupid, Senor."

"Yes I was. I trusted her and let her into my house and I'm trusting you now. Stupid." Esteban picked up the pouch and held it out to her. "We aren't starving, Senorita. We'll be fine in a year or two, provided my ranch is prosperous. Give this to someone who really needs it."

He saw Alessandro standing in the doorway to his bedroom and Esteban ordered, "Go back to bed."

"That's the bad woman," Alessandro moaned. "She'll take me."

Tessa gasped. She needed to know what the other Queen had done to them. The little boy had lost his mother, then robbed by... knife? Gun? _How could anyone be so callous as to scare a child_?

"No. This is the real Queen, son," Esteban confidently told the boy. "She was trying to replenish our funds, but there is no need. Go back to bed. I'll be in after I show her to the door."

Tessa smiled to the boy, but he wasn't comforted as he sunk back into his dark room, a terrified look on his face. She told Esteban, "Senor, I'm so sorry for what she did."

"Why? Were you her accomplice?"

"Of course not. I just feel bad."

"Well, thank you." He watched her put the pouch back in her pocket and for a moment wished he had taken it. Natalia could return that much sooner. He heard she was working as a seamstress in the village. When he let her go, they were all affected, she was a member of the family. He suddenly said, "Wait." 

Tessa looked at him, the pouch half way into her pocket. He said, "I changed my mind. The coins will only go to hiring back my children's nanny. They miss her. They need her. She's the only mother they have. May I have it?"

When he held his hand out, she gladly gave it to him, smiling. He said, "I will pay you back with the first payment I receive on my crop. Where can I send the coins?"

"You don't have to pay me back."

"I **_will_** repay you. This is only a loan."

Tessa saw that he was a proud man and didn't want to interfere with machismo. She nodded. "I will return after harvest."

He nodded in return and held his hand out to shake on it. It would be the only contract they need. "We have a deal, Senorita... or is it Senora?"

"Queen is fine," she said. They shook on it and kept hold of each other's hands for moment longer. She could tell he was trying to see her behind the lace of her mask. She had the thought of whipping it off to reveal who she was. For a moment. They dropped hands and he retreated. She asked, "Did she come to your hacienda alone?"

"Yes."

"There wasn't anyone waiting outside?"

"I don't know. I was in here comforting my children after she ran out of here."

Tessa's heart sunk visualizing what must have happened in that very room. "Well, it's late. Thank you for your time. I'll do everything I can to find out who did this to you and your family."

"Why? I heard she was dead, but I didn't quite believe it."

"To make sure there aren't anyone others ready to take her place."

She walked to the door and he hurried around her to open it for her. The manners honed into him since he was a child was always in the forefront when he didn't have to be on guard. She smiled to him and was ready to make her leave. He said, "You may talk to Senora Heche. The German widow."

"She was robbed also?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how many have been?"

"The two of us, and whoever killed her, I suppose while she was robbing them."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Widow Heche and I are the only ones I know of. I suppose having children and being an only parent was attractive to her as victims. That's all I know, Queen. Why haven't you heard the talk?"

Tessa held up her hands and shrugged. "I guess I've been busy. But I know about it now. It won't happen anymore."

They looked at each other and Tessa softly asked, "Will you not tell anyone I was here? That I'm truly alive? My being dead my help in the long run. I can surprise Montoya that way. He wouldn't be expecting me."

Esteban deeply smiled and shook his head with respect for the tales that he had heard of the Queen. "Aren't you ever scared?"

"All the time," she confessed. "But I can't be."

"Your secret is safe with me, Queen. Come back at harvest and I will repay you."

Tessa nodded the affirmative and walked out the door. What she heard next made her heart leap. She heard him say, "Or sooner, if you so desire."

  
  


**THE END**

But there's more to come in the series...

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo/index.html



	3. Outside the Window

**ENCOUNTER 3**

**OUTSIDE THE WINDOW**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]  
[http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore][2]  
[http://www.geocities.com/enyajo][3]

  
  


**RATING**: PG-15? Helm/Marta get some... be warned. 

**CHARACTERS**: T/Q M H Mentions of Esteban, his family, and Montoya

**SUMMARY**: Marta gets a surprise night visitor as Tessa continues to investigate the 'Queen's Death'.

**NOTES**: First two parts on QoS-F list archive or on each of the sites above. 

Helm/Marta, if you want the Queen/Helm or Tessa/Helm, this isn't the fic for you.

Beta'd by MnD - [yuanne@aol.com][4]

The characters you've heard of belong to Fireworks and the others I guess belong to me. Hope they continue the show!

~~~~~

Tessa quickly rode Chico back home in the bright moonlight with the vision of Esteban Nogales and his terrified son on her mind. The few times she had seen Senor Nogales with his wife, Maria Louisa, and two children in Santa Helena, she hadn't ever given him a thought. To see that he was so young--just a few years older than herself--and too damn handsome--his fiery brown eyes, wavy hair, wide shoulders... She reprimanded herself. He was a widower and had children to raise. He just had a traumatic event. He even had to let the nanny go. He held the weight of the world on his shoulders. On every strong, muscular shoulders. _Tessa! There's no use gushing over him! Think about something else_.

She looked down at her Queen uniform and realized how easily she had gotten used to the black attire. To using the sword at her side for real, not just in practice with her sword master teacher. The moment she stood backward on the cliff came to mind. There had been nothing behind her but crashing waves and sharp rocks and a little oasis of sand. Tessa again wondered how she could have mustered up the courage to just fall backward over the abyss. The idea had just come to her in a split second. She did it. Without a second thought. _Did I do it because if I really had died, it was on my terms, or did I really think I'd survive_? Tessa had no answer, and it scared her.

Chills went up her spine once again as she was well aware that the Queen had a lot more nerve than she did and it excited her. Tessa didn't think she would ever experience a such rush in her own normal life as exhilarating as moments that happened while she's in the form of the Queen of Swords. _What will I do if I don't have to dress up anymore? One day, there wouldn't be a need for her. What will I do then_?

Her mind drifted to the poor families--two that she knew of--that had to endure being betrayed so horribly by a woman who was meant to protect them. The Queen. She knew that Esteban Nogales didn't want to come forward thinking he'd be lynched--if not by Montoya for murder, then by the people of the county who thought of the Queen as a savior and wouldn't listen to the truth.

~~~~~

Tessa returned Chico to the stable and unsaddled him. With a caress of her hand against his snout, she made sure there was fresh water and the treat of some carrots ready for him. She reached up and pulled off her mask, tossed her head from side to side to unmat her hair. "Good night, Chico," she whispered in the horse's ear. "Sleep well. There will be another long day tomorrow."

After hungrily eating the supper that Marta kept warm for her, Tessa felt tired. She went to her room to reflect on the events of the day, the Nogales', and to plan what had to be done the next morning. She would see if there were more reales that she could spare for Senora Heche and her family. Tessa knew that it wasn't her fault they had been robbed, but it was her fault that the faker wasn't found out earlier. The people who had been taken were too scared to confess what had happened, to actually place the blame on the almost saintly -- in their eyes at least -- Queen.

"To think that some was lining their own pockets using my identity," she spouted to Marta as they got her out of the Queen's outfit and into a nightgown. "I feel violated."

She laid on her bed wearing her lightest nightgown and Marta softly pulled a sheet on top of her. "Is there anything I can get you, Tessa?"

"No, Marta, thank you. But, we could talk until I fall asleep."

Marta smiled; she loved the late night talks they had always shared. "How did Senor Esteban react to the news that the Queen is very much alive?"

"He was surprised. Nervous at first that I'd come to rob him. I asked him to keep the secret for a little while. It might come in handy."

"Will he?"

"Yes. I trust him."

"How long are you going to keep the charade that the Queen is dead? A long time, I hope."

"I can't Marta. You know I can't."

Marta knew that Tessa was tired, had endured a long day, and lifted herself off Tessa's bed. She could see the sweat start of collect on her charge's skin and could feel herself clad in her usual nightgown overheated as well. _There has to be a break from the intense heat soon. There has to be._ Marta picked up Tessa's fan from her bureau and opened it wide. She saw that Tessa had closed her eyes. Marta softly fanned her from head to toe, back and forth, lightly fanning herself quickly with each pass. 

Soon Tessa turned on her side and put one hand under her face, the other under her pillow. Marta smiled. That was the sign of her slumber since she was a little girl. Tessa was seven when Marta was hired to be her governess and had easily come to love her more than anyone in the world. Marta had just turned twenty when she came into the employ of Don and Senora Alvarado to take care of their daughter. It was a blessing. The moment she joined the Alvarado family, Marta felt like she could once again live. As Marta stood there watching Tessa sleep, it was hard to even remember that she had lived before meeting Tessa.

Marta turned and opened the window a little wider. Just outside the window, under the cover of night, Dr. Robert Helm stood in the shadows. He had planned to call on Marta as a gentleman would. He thought it was the only way he could properly see Marta without hoping she would fall and break a limb needing his medical services once again. 

When he had arrived at the Alvarado residence, the lights were out. Helm almost got back on his white stallion that he had won in a poker game with Don Hidalgo because they were all obviously asleep. He would try again another night. Earlier. Bringing wine to go with the meal that Marta would have prepared. It was when he noticed a lamp burning in the back corner of the house that he decided to investigate. 

The lamp had been burning in Maria Theresa's bedroom. He saw a nightgown-clad Marta fanning her mistress as a good servant should. He hated to think that she was wasting away as a servant for anyone, and more selfishly, was fanning anyone but him. Helm shook his head to try to ease the feelings that flowed without warning and looked down at himself. He was dressed in his best suit. It was only the one in his possession that had survived his travels from Spain after resigning from His Majesty's Service. He wondered why he felt he needed to wear it; it was so damn hot! Not even the setting sun had cooled off the air. The only good thing was that the wind had died down so the dust no longer stung the eyes. Helm looked down at his suit, at the vest he wore, and rubbed a finger under the collar that was adorned with his finest tie. He felt like an idiot, a school boy with a crush on an unattainable red headed girl. He had even stepped back so Marta couldn't see him watching her, just watching every movement she made.

Marta laid the fan back on the bureau's surface and pick up the oil lamp to walk to her own room across the hacienda from Tessa's. Helm no longer felt ridiculous. He felt that he needed to follow her. While she walked inside the house, he moved from window to window, following the light. 

Marta entered her bedroom and set the lamp on her bureau. Robert Helm had positioned himself against the wall alongside her bedroom window, stretching to his right to look into her room, at her. He saw her open a drawer and pull out three nightgowns of various colors and fabrics. She uneasily weighed each in her hands, making Helm wonder what she was up to. She was wearing a gown, just go to bed so he could see her off to sleep before leaving.

After leaving the white flannel gown on the chair, she took her time debating between the white gauze and the pink silk nightgowns as she moved in circles, feeling the silk fabric to her cheek. Helm felt like a peeping tom as he watched her, but Marta was so graceful in her movements, he was watching a ballet and didn't want it to come to an end. Marta dropped them both on the chair and walked back to the bureau. 

Helm watched as Marta tied her long, curly hair up with a clasp and using only her un-bandaged hand, she splashed water from the basin atop the bureau. She grabbed a cloth and rubbed it over her face and behind her neck then down her chest under her gown to cool off.

Helm stepped closer to the window to be able to see off to the side where she was, cleaning and cooling herself off. Marta dried her hands on the cloth and repositioned the bandage on her right hand. Pressing on the laceration under the tied cloth, Helm had the thought of retying it with fresh bandages for her. But she couldn't know he was there. He had seen more than he should have. But he couldn't leave his place just outside her window.

Marta leaned over and lifted her gown to look at her left knee and repositioned that bandage. Her face screwed up with pain as she felt the wound. She wet the cloth and sat atop the nightgowns on the chair and carefully unwrapped the bandage on her knee. She fanned and blew on it as Helm had that afternoon. Leaving it unwrapped, Helm saw her stand.

_Okay, show's almost over_, he thought to himself. _Isn't that woman tired_? He never dreamed that their night was just beginning. Marta unbuttoned the side of her nightgown and lifted it over her head. Helm's mouth fell open but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the exquisite sight of her before him. He hoped his sudden intake of breath hadn't notified her that he was still there, glued to the proceedings. The only thought he could form in his mind was, _Just turn around. I need to see you_.

Helm knew he wouldn't be leaving that spot until she did. Then hoped that when she did, she wouldn't be offended by his lurking. The temperature outside was nothing to him, his internal flame had been ignited. He spent years as an undercover agent for King and Country, but at that moment, he didn't care if his spying was revealed.

~~~~~

Marta hummed a gypsy tune as she pulled the nightgown over her head to get her mind off the temperature. Facing her closet, she let the gown fall in a heap at the bottom of it. She would have a lot of washing to do the next day, she'd pick it up then. She unhooked her hair and let her curls swing behind her head. She grabbed a ringlet to study how dirty it was. _Yes, I will wash myself along with the clothes_.

She picked up the white gauze nightgown and slipped it over her head and let it fall over her. The pink silk would wait for a special occasion. She carefully folded it and put it back in her drawer. She went to window to open it farther to allow whatever breeze there might be inside. Marta looked out on the moonlit silhouette of the mountains in the distance. It was at that time of night that Marta would usually walk the estate, get fresh air, meditate. It was too hot that evening. 

Suddenly, a man's silhouette stepped into her view. Startled, she cowered back into her room and realizing just how flimsy the fabric was that she wore, she quickly covered herself with her arms and hands. She hadn't seen who it was--it was just an outline of a man. He spoke, "I'm sorry, Marta. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Marta knew his accented voice instantly and was at once exhilarated and confused. She had no idea why he was there, outside her window, but immediately liked that he was. Helm walked to the window frame and set his hands on the sill. As soon as she saw his face in the lamp light, she knew what he was thinking. What he wanted. For the longest moment they only looked at each other; she smiled at his extremely dapper suit. Slowly, she lowered her hands, exposing herself to him through the flimsy fabric. She could see the soft thankful smile that curled his lips. 

He hoarsely spoke again, "May I come in?"

She nodded her consent and he sat on the sill and swung his legs into the room. "You're an even more stunning woman than I had expected." For a second she wondered how long he had been standing outside her window, and realized he must have seen everything. Everything. She wasn't ashamed or modest. She knew she had a nice form. His voice was soft; she knew he didn't want to unnerve her, but to tell her the truth. 

When he walked toward her, Marta didn't back away; she lifted her head as he neared to maintain eye contact with him. He stood inches from her when she hooked her hands on his lapels. Marta had always been captivated with the doctor since his arrival in Santa Helena. That afternoon made her know that he wasn't an object to fantasize from afar, but a man who had released a passion of grief and lust. She wanted more than anything to wrangle that force. She pulled his face down to hers and let his breath combine with her own. 

Closing her eyes, she felt his mouth make contact with her cheek, her mouth, then felt his tongue brush against her teeth. Her heart did a flip when she felt his hands rub down her back. As his hands continued south, she responded with expectant breaths and a tingling sensation started in her most private place that she had feared was long past responding. Marta yanked his jacket down, holstering his arms. As she worked on getting his jacket off, he nestled his nose against her neck, his hot breath not at all unwelcome. In fact, it made her skin react with gooseflesh that he gently rubbed away after getting back the use of his arms. His coat was dropped to the floor. He kicked it aside.

Helm yanked at the miserable tie that he had felt he needed when he left his private quarters at the office that evening. Since he brushed her hands away when she tried to help him untie it, Marta stepped back to watch him, making her way to the head of the bed. He let out an embarrassed smile as he kept tugging at it. Marta let out a little laugh and said, "Well, it's up to you, Doctor."

"I should have used a slip knot." He hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt as he made is way toward her. Pulling the collar under the tie, he slipped it off, making Marta chuckle again. Her soft laughter of excitement stopped when she saw his well-formed chest.

She laid on one side of the bed as he pulled down his pants and sat without exposing himself to her on the other side, then slipped under the sheet. They met at the middle of her bed. Helm leaned over her, brushed her hair back from her face. She lifted her head up to kiss him and moved his hands to her chest. As he kissed the length of her body, he was especially gentle at her knee. They moved without the hesitation of being each other for the first time. They explored each other's bodies with curiosity of how the other would react to each touch. Helm lay on his back and pulled Marta on top of him. The foreplay had proceeded well but he still didn't know how fast to go with her. All his uncertainty was squelched when she hungrily kissed him. He laughed when her hand strolled down his chest, then his well-toned body, to take a gentle hold of him, squeezing and running her finger up and down it's length.

She was going to go with her emotions and sit on top of him but her knee inflicted pain of being scraped against the bed. Helm turned them over. He nestled his head over her shoulder and slowly entered her, stayed inside to gauge her reaction. She prodded him to keep going. It was fine. In fact, glorious. It was a purely physical co-mingling; they didn't speak at all. The only questions they silently asked was if each movement was fine with the other. His father. Her past. His regrets. Her station in life. Their different upbringings. Their differing religions. There was nothing in their minds but the here and now.

~~~~~

Before the sun came up, Tessa awoke to realized the sheet and her nightgown where tangled around her; she had tossed and turned all night from the heat. She saw that it was only just after four when she checked the clock on her night stand. Debated whether to try to fall back asleep or to dress as the Queen and use the cover of darkness to make the trek to the Heche residence. It was too hot to sleep. She got out of bed and looked out her window at the still black morning. _The heat **has** to break soon_!

After a quick sponging off and going to her secret closet that held her the Queen's outfit and weapon, she went to Marta's room to tell her that she was leaving and not to worry. She opened the door and about fainted. Tessa thought maybe she was dreaming. Marta wasn't alone! 

Since she was dressed as the Queen, her curiosity of who the figure lying next to her governess had to wait for another time. She quickly closed the door so they wouldn't see her. While she backed into the parlor, Tessa smiled from finding out a secret of Marta's and just a bit of embarrassment. She hadn't known that Marta was seeing anyone, and was a little more than upset that she hadn't mentioned anything. Tessa didn't even know that Marta even looked at a man, any man, that way. Then she realized that Marta was like a mother to her and it just hadn't ever occurred to her that Marta was a woman, with needs, wants and hopes. A future. Without her. 

Tessa was glad for Marta, but at the same time sad that she could lose her. Marta may not have struck Tessa as sexual, but if she had spent the night with a man, it had to be serious. She shivered when she realized that she could lose Marta. With a loss of what to say, Tessa half-heartedly wrote a note to say that she would return. Then Tessa crumbled the paper in her hand. Of course she would return. What if the man found the note? He would wonder why Maria Teresa had to leave so early in the morning and Marta would have to explain. _No. Any explaining that Marta does will be to tell me who the hell that man was and how long it had been going on_!

Tessa couldn't squelch that gnawing sense of curiosity; she was going to go back to take another look at the man to at least see if she recognized him._ Not a good idea, Tessa. He could wake up and see the Queen, then what would I do_? She was careful not to slam the door to wake them on her way out to the stables.

~~~~~

Helm awoke to the sound of a neighing horse and thought it was his own. It took a minute for him to adjust his eyes and try to figure out where he was. Through the darkness of the room, he saw Marta asleep. She was on her side facing him, resting her head atop her folded arm as he had been sleeping on the only pillow left on the bed. He seemed to remember her falling asleep with her head nestled on his arm and an easy smile floated across his face with the remembrance. His eyes were adjusting nicely, indeed. Marta wasn't covered. 

He didn't want to wake her, she seemed so at peace. He pulled the sheet up over her shoulder and lifted her head to slip the pillow he had used underneath. When she didn't awake, he carefully leaned over his side of the bed to get his pocket watch out of his pants. It was just past 4:30. He didn't know about how people on the ranch perceived Marta, and didn't want to cause a ruckus with him having spent the night. He'd better go.

His head was telling him he should go, but his body gave him troubles. He was tired, almost exhausted, and the air was stuffy. He wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, but warily got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. Only then did he realize that he was still wearing that blasted tie! A soft laugh escaped him and figured he'd just cut the damn thing off when he got to his scalpels. 

With the thought of one of his medical instruments, his mind went back to the last person he used his scalpel on. The Queen. The Queen's corpse. Helm couldn't believe it, but she was actually dead. He had the thought that the Queen was in fact Maria Teresa Alvarado, only because they had the same hair, the same lips. But then again, most of the women in the village did. And he saw Maria Teresa--very much alive--being tucked into her bed just a couple of hours before. By Marta, the beautiful woman who had been lying so peacefully right in front of him.

_I have to get out of here or I won't be going anywhere_, he prodded himself.

He only took the time to button his pants and the top two of his shirt, which he pulled on over the tie. He folded his jacket of his arm and made his way quietly to the window. The way he came in seemed to be the correct way to exit. He didn't want to wake the Senorita. Taking another quick look at Marta, he also didn't want to just leave without a goodbye. Helm carefully laid back on the bed alongside Marta and fingered her cheek. She still slept like an angel. He played with a tendril of her hair until she awoke. 

When she did, the second of surprise was replaced by a happy grin when her eyes focused on his face. "I have to go," he whispered. "I don't want to..." he started, hoping she'd tell him to stay. Her reputation was his only concern; not because how others perceive one meant anything to him, but it seemed to be important to her and he would respect that.

To his delight, Marta leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Then she disappointed him when she said, "I understand."

He nodded to her and said, "I want to see you again."

She hiked herself up on her elbow and playfully kissed him again. "You know where I live."

"Yes, I do." His smile was so wide and bright, it lit up the room. "But, you will come to me tonight. My place. Where we're totally alone."

"But Tessa..."

"She doesn't have to come with you."

They quietly smiled to each other, then Marta explained, "No, I mean, I'd have to tell her why I have to go into town."

"You don't want to tell her about us?"

That he considered them an 'us' was magnificent. But she had to be careful, they came from two very different worlds, belonged in two very different classes. After so many years of people reminding her of her station in life so many times. It was hard for her to look past it, but the last thing she wanted was to lose Helm. Doctor Helm, that she had privately lusted after since his arrival in Santa Helena. Robert. "Just for a while I'd like to have us be a secret." _Just to make sure it's real_.

He asked, "Why?" She didn't know how to tell him if he didn't understand already. She only shrugged her shoulder and he agreed--somewhat half-heartedly--but he agreed. "Okay. Find a way." He was adamant in his declaration that, "If you don't come to me, I'm coming back here."

"I will come to you," Marta promised. "Nothing on heaven or earth can stop me."

~~~~~

The Queen rode Chico at an easy pace; the horse had been awaken and needed to adjust to the full day ahead of him. Tessa didn't want to push him too hard that early so he'd be tired later in case she really needed him to make tracks. The sun rising over the canyons toward the east was a welcome sight as she neared the Heche hacienda. Tessa had never met the German immigrant whose husband died not long after they settled in Alto California. She and her children had always kept to themselves. They almost never came into the pueblo. She had heard they have been invited to Montoya's fiestas, but after so many declines, Montoya stopped sending them.

As Chico walked behind the Heche casa, Tessa wondered if Senora Heche could even speak English--one certainly couldn't assume she'd speak Spanish. The hacienda was quiet, the buildings that held the Heche's few workers and their families were still dark. At least Tessa assumed she still had workers for the sheep farm. The sheep were there, but it was odd that the rise of the sun didn't rouse them into action. Tessa felt bad when she realized that, like Esteban Nogales, Senor Heche may have had to let the workers go after being robbed.

The Queen was just about to hop off Chico when colorful flags caught her eye; they were Montoya's soldier's flags. She pulled out her telescope to see a great caravan was heading toward the sea. And there were animals. Tessa had to squint to make out what they _were_. _Cattle_! The soldier's holding Montoya's flags, were herding cattle! **_Montoya_**___ is the rustler_!

So much had happened since the rustling problem had been forefront in her mind: Tessa found out there was another Queen, and that everyone thought that she was dead; she finally met, an was fascinated by, Esteban Nogales; and Marta had a lover. _Yes, the last 24 hours have been interesting_, Tessa mused. _Now the rustling puzzle had been solved. Why couldn't I see that before? How **dare** he?_

Tessa, instead of dismounting Chico, kicked him lightly in the ribs to make him move. He leapt into action and took off with lightening speed to follow the flags. The Queen smiled. Her appearance would be the absolute last thing any of them would expect. She rode up a cliff alongside the trail the many animals had slowly rode down to the beach. By the time she had arrived at the shore, most of the cattle had been loaded onto a waiting ship. Her mind tried to formulate a plan. There wouldn't be adequate cover for her trek to the ship and she would make an easy target. Even for them. The doors were already being sealed._ Sure, I could fight the soldiers, but the ship would still make it's way to... where would it be going? To an auction? To a businessman who had already laid out the reales for Montoya? To slaughter? It's too late_.

Tessa decided to just give Montoya another mental notch of the things she was keeping tally in her head and reversed Chico to leave before they were seen. She could use her state of being alive in a more useful manner. She had to work it to her advantage. Even though The Queen was on Montoya's hit list, he was sweet on Maria Teresa. Tessa could talk to Montoya about the poor rancheros who were losing livestock and see what his reaction was. _That might be fun. And I can gauge his reaction_.

~~~~~

Marta, fully dressed for the day and changing the bedding, woke that morning without a care in the world. She tightly tucked the corners of the new sheets under the mattress with zeal of renewed vigor. On the floor, peeking out from under the bed on the side that Dr. Helm had slept for just a few hours earlier, there was a white linen handkerchief. Marta picked it up and held it to her nose. Helm's musky scent washed over her. After inspecting it, she saw that it was stitched with the initials RB. Robert Birchwick. The son of an Earl who had committed patricide. For a moment, she wondered why on Earth he would ever use a handkerchief with those initials on it. She would have to return it to him, and she would have to ask him.

The door to the house flung open and slammed shut, scaring Marta out of her wits. She ran to the door of her bedroom to catch a glimpse of Tessa's long flowing hair turn the corner to her own room. Marta relaxed; it had only been Tessa, and she was safe. Marta had noticed that Tessa was gone that morning and the nagging thought that the Queen would surely be dead wouldn't ease. Every time her charge stepped into that black costume, Marta's maternal skills kicked in. She stuffed Helm's handkerchief into her pocket.

Tessa needed help getting into a corset when Marta joined her in the bedroom. "Marta, I'm glad you're awake. I have to go into town and talk to Montoya."

"Why? What are you planning?"

"I know the man behind the cattle rustling. I wasn't in time to stop it, but Montoya's men were herding a great number of them to a ship."

Marta tied the corset tight as she asked, "You're just going to waltz into his office to say 'I accuse you'?"

"No," Tessa looked back to smile at her. "I'm going to waltz into office full of concern that yet another of my Don friends had their livestock taken from them. I'm going to make sure that my eyes are perfectly sad; I would probably be able to work up a tear, bat my eyebrows and ask if there was anything at all that he could do about the situation."

They both laughed as Marta chose a dress from the closet for Tessa to wear. "He's still under the assumption that the Queen is dead?"

Tessa said, "Well, I didn't tell him any different."

Marta's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Good." She held out the green cotton dress to Tessa and then helped her slip it over her head.

"I know you worry, Marta. There's no need. I know what I'm doing."

"I know. I trust you, that you won't get into a situation you can't handle. It's just..."

"What?" 

Frustrated, Marta wondered aloud, "I can't worry?"

Tessa laughed and hugged Marta. Then turned very serious. "No. I don't want you to worry about me. If something happens, something happens. There's nothing either of us can do about it."

Marta turned her around to button the dress. Tessa looked back over her shoulder and asked, "Have you read the Tarot?"

"Of course."

"What have you seen? Anything?"

"No," Marta admitted.

That was all Tessa needed to hear and straightened the skirt of her dress. "Good."

"Maybe not."

"What do you mean?" Tessa looked back at Marta in surprise.

"I didn't see yesterday coming at all. Yesterday was an eventful day." Marta turned away because she knew her cheeks reddened with the mere thought of the doctor who had been in her bed.

Tessa smiled, a little nervous to even think of mentioning it so soon, but said, "Yes it was. For both of us."

Marta finishing buttoning the dress as she tried to think of something else to make her lose the smile that the thought of Robert Helm made appear. _Think of widows and orphans, Montoya, laundry, anything_! What she verbalized was, "Hm?"

"Marta." Tessa softly informed her, "I saw you this morning." The relaxed look on Marta's face started to tighten. Tessa took her hand. "I was going to tell you that I was leaving before dawn because you always holler at me if I don't, and I saw you..." Tessa started to blush as she said, "You weren't alone."

Horrified embarrassment washed over Marta's face as her hand went to her throat. She was going to tell Tessa... one day. Not so suddenly. Before she could stutter out a reply, Tessa said, "I'm sorry to just walk into your room but I didn't expect... you know. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"No. No, that's not it, Tessita."

"Who was he? Anyone I know? Anyone I've met? Did you just meet him?"

"You didn't see him?"

"No. It was dark and I certainly didn't want to light a lamp. You were both sleeping and I couldn't see his face."

"You must think the worst of me," Marta said as she shamefully lowered her head.

"Why? Of course not. I'm happy for you. I know you..." Tessa chuckled with embarrassment about talking to Marta about her love life, having never done it before. "I know what happened before you joined our family. I'm really happy that you found someone. I really am. Who is he?"

Marta tightened up even more. "I'd rather not say."

"Eladio? He **_does_**__like you. I can tell by how he looks at you when you aren't looking at him."

"No. He is not Eladio."

"Do I know him?"

"Yes."

"Interesting," Tessa smiled, thinking that the her questions were coming out easier than she thought they would, but Marta's answers weren't forthcoming. "Well, you're not telling me for some reason so, I'll respect that. But I don't know why you don't. Is it because I'm too young? You don't think I'd understand?"

"It's too new, that's all."

Tessa smiled at Marta and then had the urge to hug her, didn't like to see her 'mother' so uncomfortable. She wrapped her arms around Marta; as Marta hugged her back, Tessa again had the awful feeling that she was going to lose Marta.

Marta lifted Tessa's face to look at her. She told her, "You're the most important thing in my life, Tessa. Don't forget that."

Tessa smiled that her thoughts could always be known to her duenna. There was just no use in trying to pretend.

Marta did Tessa's hair to make sure she looked appropriate for Montoya. After showing her to the door and wishing her luck, Marta hurriedly heated water for a bath, cut up some vegetables and boiled meat, making a stew. Instead of taking a whole bath, Marta used the water to wash her hair and sponge herself off. Marta put on her best dress and favorite pom pom corset, she snuck into Tessa's room-even though she really didn't have to sneak-to use some of Tessa's rouge for her cheeks. She went back into the kitchen to put the stew pot on the highest hook in the fireplace for it to simmer all day for Tessa. She then left a note that she may not be back until the morning.

Marta went out to the stables and saw Eladio tending to the horses. He smiled and tipped his hat to her. Marta remembered that the first man that came to Tessa's mind about being in her bed that morning was Eladio, had told her that he was 'sweet' on her. She looked at him for the first time in that way. He was a handsome gitano, a little older than herself, a nice smile. But there were no feelings there except for camaraderie. Eladio asked, "Another hot day, ma'am."

"Yes. I have to go into town. Is there a horse available?"

"Senorita Alvarado left for town with two of them. There's Chico," he nodded to the horse's stall. Chico was lazily eating his grain from the box. Marta figured she shouldn't take him in case, God forbid, the Queen needed him. "How about the mare?" She pointed at the roan horse in the last stall.

"I was just going to exercise her after finishing up here," Eladio said as he leaned on the rake. "May I ask why you didn't go with the Senorita?"

"Something just came up."

"Shall I escort you?"

"No, Eladio, I'll be fine. Thank you."

He saddled the mare up and helped Marta on her back. Marta rode fast into town, with wonderment of how the doctor would react to her arrival. He told her to come, but he meant that evening. Marta figured he'd be pleased if she told him that she just couldn't stay away, which was the truth of the matter.

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Encounter 4

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo
   [4]: mailto:yuanne@aol.com



	4. The Colonel

**ENCOUNTER 4:  
THE COLONEL**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]  
[http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore][2]  
[http://www.geocities.com/enyajo][3]

  
  


**RATING**: G, PG

**CHARACTERS**: T/Q H M CM V Mentions of Nogales

**SUMMARY**: Montoya and Helm each receive visitors.

**NOTES**: First three parts on QoS-F list archive or on each of the sites above. 

Helm/Marta, if you want the Queen/Helm or Tessa/Helm, this isn't the fic for you. Also, it veers off on things that have happened on the show.

The characters you've heard of belong to Fireworks. Hope they continue the show!

**ACKNOWLEDGMENT**: Many, many thanks goes out to Eliza who tried so hard to make Montoya make sense in this story and for making me see many lights. :-) I'm so grateful.

~~~~~

**LATE AFTERNOON**

Tessa waited patiently in Montoya's outer office, a guard standing diligently at the door. She kept her face averted from him in case he recognized her. She was almost certain that she had kneed him in his private area during a recent altercation as the Queen. Trying not to smile, she wondered how long it took him to recover. She took special care to make sure she sat straight in the settee and gave an inordinate amount of attention to her fingernails so he couldn't make a connection. _Sure, to the rest of the world, the 'Queen was dead', but why chance fate_? She was there to see Montoya's reaction to her bringing up the rustling problem. If she could make him think that she was scared of a threat then he may say more than he should. 

Montoya threw open the door separating them and gallantly walked to his guest. "Senorita Alvarado," he sang out. Tessa stood and offered her hand as he said, "I was just told you were waiting to see me. You have not been waiting long, I hope?" 

His peck to the back of her hand was an odd sensation for Tessa, as he seemed cordial and helpful to 'Maria Teresa' but wanted to kill 'The Queen'. She would have to tread carefully. She made sure that her forehead held the appropriate crease of worry between her brows as she replied, "No, I have not. I know you are a busy man, so I am sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all," he said with a condescending smile and indicating his office door for her to enter. "What can I do for you today?"

She got right to the heart of the matter. "Colonel, I am so worried."

"What could be disturbing you Maria Teresa?"

She would have preferred to do this in private, without that guard standing there. "Many of my friends have been losing their cattle. I am all alone at my hacienda, Colonel. Will I be next? My cattle are the major part of my fortune and I just don't know what to do."

"There is nothing that you need to do, Senorita. I am dealing with the problem as we speak," he declared. "It is terrible, what is going on." He shook his head and tisked, escorting her into his office. "The rogues have no respect for the property of others. My men and I will capture the banditos and they will hang high, I promise you."

"Oh, Colonel," she smiled with feigned relief. He had shown no guilty expression on his face that she could tell. He either didn't know he was doing wrong, or didn't care. Tessa didn't know which was worse. Colonel Luis Montoya was obviously a very good actor. For a moment, she wondered if they should start an acting troop in the pueblo with their protector in the leading role. She decided to bait him a little longer. "We are so lucky to be led by you. I cannot **_imagine_** what would happen to us if you were not our defender."

As he closed the door of his office, Montoya's pompous smile couldn't have grown any wider. "Would you like some tea, Senorita?"

"Oh I couldn't possibly bother you any more than I have," Tessa said without a lot of force, knowing the protocol of a gentle senorita. Maria Teresa didn't spend two years at court without learning something

"Oh, I insist, Senorita. I was just going to have a cup myself and would appreciate the company."

_He had fallen for that little ploy, but would he make a mistake_, she asked to herself. Then, to her amazement, her mind turned to Senor Esteban Nogales. As he had stood so tall in his home, his children in their beds, he was protective, forceful, yet so understanding when confronted with the impossible--the Queen who had robbed him wasn't the genuine article. 

Montoya helped her into a chair opposite his at the table, almost without her knowing as she was so lost in thought. She shook off the vision of the young Don in the unbuttoned shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal well toned arms. That was strange for a man of wealth. It made her sad to realize that because of her imposter, the Don probably had to perform manual labor as he couldn't afford his full work force.

She completely missed what Montoya had said, but saw silver thongs in his hand poised above the sugar cube bowl. "One, please," she replied, guessing at what he had asked.

"Of course," he said, smiling, and dropped one sugar cube into her cup and poured the tea. 

Tessa clicked open her fan to wave away the last remnant of the handsome Don from her mind. She debated whether or not to mention the thieving Queen to Montoya. She hadn't been in town when the imposter's corpse was laid out for all to see. She didn't know what Montoya's reaction to it had been, although she was positive that it probably accounted for his jovial mood. "It's so awful," she said with a demure shake of her head.

"What is so awful, Maria Teresa?"

"There is so much thievery going on, Colonel. A single lady alone feels so vulnerable. First the cattle rustlers and then the Queen of Swords..." Tessa forgot if she should know that the 'Queen' was dead or not. If she mentioned it , what was she supposed to think about her? It was suddenly so much more confusing than normal.

Montoya clucked his tongue, "The Queen never helped anyone, only herself. But you do **_not_** worry about her. She is dead."

Tessa gasped, her hand to her mouth, "No. She is? What happened?"

"Some enterprising soul shot her. We don't have to worry about her anymore."

"That is quite the relief." Tessa clicked open her fan again and started fanning her chest. She leaned closer to Montoya to whisper, "I did not know she was dead. I had just heard gossip from my workers that she had been **_robbing_** people."

Montoya's eyes danced when he heard that. "Who?"

"I don't know, they did not say." She chuckled and said, "Colonel, it is not like I have my workers in my sitting room for tea. I just heard snippets of their conversation. They usually stop talking when I come around."

"Yes, well. The Queen of Swords was the worst kind of Robin Hood." Montoya offered her a plate of scones, to which she took one with a thankful bow of her head. "She forgot the part about giving to the poor. She only robbed from the rich. I'm surprised, Senorita, that you were not a victim."

Tessa sat back to think about what her reaction to who the Queen was--is--should be. She was too close to the matter to know. Vera and the other Donas in the county were either oblivious to what the Queen was doing or had formed the opinion of hatred because their husbands did, that she was just messing things up. "You know, Colonel," she said as she put her hand to her chin. "I have been missing some antiquities. I just assumed they were lost in the move from Spain." She gasped. "You don't think she actually broke into my hacienda and took my things, do you?" Tessa stood. "Oh my goodness! I hadn't thought of that. Could that be **_true_**?"

"I would not be one to put such a dastardly thing past her." Montoya stood and motioned for her to relax and sit again. Tessa did and daintily drank from her cup of tea. Looking at Montoya out the corner of her eye, she was satisfied that her little display had worked to her advantage. His face held the expression of concern for her well being as he again refilled her cup.

"Your job should be easier now that you do not have to deal with her anymore, Colonel."

"Yes," he agreed. "My focus is on capturing those cattle rustlers and bringing them to justice." 

It still amazed Tessa how easily Montoya lied. He had perfected it to such an art that if she didn't know better, she would have believed every word he said, owing to his enthusiasm. 

He continued, "Senorita, if you are afraid of being alone out in the country, maybe it is time you thought about marriage?"

"Oh," Tessa blushed. "Hopefully one day I will have a husband."

Montoya smiled. "You know that Capitan Grisham has been keeping his eyes on you."

"Really?"

"Surely you have noticed. Have you had any more dinners with him?"

"Sadly no," Tessa lied about the 'sadly' part. "We shared a drink once, but..." She tried to hide the amusement from her mind when she whispered, "He got drunk so I left."

"Really?" Montoya reacted with genuine surprise. "When was this?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. It is the past. Capitan Grisham is an interesting man though, so strong."

"Yes. Perhaps I will have to arrange another dinner for the two of you."

Montoya's smile was so wide that Tessa couldn't help but match it. "Are you match-making, Colonel?"

"I do like to see people happy and together."

Tessa had to hold back her groan. _Happy and together with my fortune in his own little secret room_. She didn't know why Montoya was so eager to thrust Grisham on her, especially since Grisham would have allowed Montoya to die of fever. There had to be an angle there but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Her thoughts again turned to Esteban. He would be a perfect man to protect her hacienda. Or she could protect him. _Why does every thought today return to Don Nogales_??

"A fiesta!" Montoya stood and rubbed his hands together. "A celebration will lift everyone's spirits."

"A celebration?" Tessa fanned herself again to get the thought of the lonely Don out of her head and concentrate on the turn in the conversation. _That the Queen is 'dead' and you're going to be even richer with the sale of the stolen cattle? Yes, you do have plenty to celebrate_.

He explained, "The heat will have to break soon. We will celebrate then."

"That **_will_** be a cause for celebration." Tessa took his hand and shook it. "Well, Colonel I have taken enough of your time. I should be going. You are a busy man." 

Montoya lifted her hand to his lips once again and softly kissed it. "You always do brighten my day, Senorita. Don't worry. You will be safe at your hacienda."

At that moment, Tessa decided to pay a few of her workers extra to guard her cattle at night. As she was escorted out of Montoya's office, she couldn't help but think that the Alvarado hacienda was going to be his next target.

~~~~~

Marta had been careful to ride the mare down the back streets of Santa Helena, She couldn't be seen by anyone who might want to talk or wonder why she was in town without Senorita Alvarado, or run into Tessa herself and have to explain her presence. Usually, everything about her life was an open book. Tessa and Marta had talked about everything. The only talk of romance had been about Tessa's beaus. Marta would like to confide in her, hoped that Tessa would understand the mutual attraction she had with the doctor, especially since Marta had the feeling that the young Senorita had her own thoughts on Dr. Helm at times.

Thankfully, Marta hadn't seen a soul who even looked in her direction. Sometimes it was handy to be so low on the totem pole of life. You could blend easier into the woodwork. Marta got off the mare and walked her to the livery. She told the man that Senorita Alvarado would like to leave her horse and would pick it up in the morning. Marta couldn't have that mare tied up behind Helm's office the rest of the day and certainly not throughout the night without people asking questions. After a few coins dropped into his hand, the deal was done and the man didn't need an explanation. 

Marta hurriedly walked to the back of his office and softly knocked on the door. When Helm didn't answer, she figured he was with a patient. Without making a noise, Marta entered Helm's private room and waited. She didn't hear any people, just the soft hum of a tune. She peeked around the door to see no one in the waiting area from her angle of view, then no one in the exam room to her right. She thought. When she turned the corner, she saw Helm in front of a mirror, shaving.

She leaned against the wall and smiled at the sight of him with a white dress shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he completed his task. He was singing in English and she couldn't make out all the words, but it seemed to be a lullaby. "No patients today?"

He jumped, having not heard her, almost nicking his neck with the razor. He demanded, "What the hell took you so long?"

"So long," Marta teased. "I'm actually very early. I see you're busy, I could leave."

"No way." He put down the razor and walked to her. He gathered her in his arms and went to kiss her. 

She quickly backed away. "Not with that cream on half of your face." He grabbed a towel to wipe it off when she grabbed his arm and gently shoved him onto a chair. "Let me."

Marta took the razor from the table and laid a towel over her shoulder then moved closer to Helm. He put his hands on her hips and repositioned her onto his lap and smiled up at her. Marta lifted the skin on the top of his cheek and carefully glided the blade down, then stopped. "You have to relax your face or I must cut you."

She wiped the blade off on the towel and waited while his expressions flowed from that delightful smile to a frown and everything in between. The smile kept returning. She rubbed her forefinger over the muscles on his face to relax them, getting one hand smeared with shaving cream. She dabbed some on his nose, then started again to run the blade down his cheek, then up from the base of his neck. 

As she wiped the blade again, he commented, "You've done this before."

"Si."

"To your--."

"Don't speak," she said, continuing to shave him. She could feel him pulling her lower body closer to his and she playfully wiggled in his lap. 

Helm let his head fall back and laughed then posed his head for her. "Hurry up."

When she was finished, she wiped off the last of the cream from his skin as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her face down to his. Eventually, the blade clattered to the floor and wrapped herself around him. 

Helm lifted her up to carry her to his back room, but she wiggled her body to the floor and stood on her own. She looked toward the door. "Yes," he said as he went over to lock it. "No interruptions like yesterday."

There had been private moments when Marta had unexpected thoughts of the doctor but had only exchanged pleasantries while she stood alongside Tessa at society functions. Marta clearly remembered the emotions she had felt the last time she was in his office. She was embarrassed from having fallen in public, had to admit that her knee and hand hurt. It was odd to be in that same room again after the intimacy they had shared so suddenly and unexpectantly, so welcoming, both in his office and in her bed. It was just the day before that she was escorted into his office by Helm and Vera not wanting anyone to bother with her. It had only been little more than a day since her life and attitude had completely changed. 

When Helm turned back to her, he noticed her reflective smile. "What?"

She admitted, "It was just yesterday morning that all you were to me was a crazy fantasy, a handsome man in town. Now, you are everything to me." Marta's insides almost exploded when she saw Helm's reaction. His smile revealed pleasure, his eyebrows rose with what must have been a hint of surprise by her words, but his eyes were captivated. Each passing second that they locked eyes drew her in more and more, she wanted him more than she ever wanted anything in her life.

Helm walked back to her, cupped her cheeks in his hands and lightly kissed her. The kiss grew into the melding of tongues, clicking of teeth as they hungrily touched and held onto each other. He grabbed her hair and then pulled her head even closer against his. Marta felt as if she wanted to just climb inside of him. She pulled the back of his shirt out from his pants, and felt his upper body respond with sudden, rapid intakes of breaths when she rubbed her fingertips up along his spine. His arm tightly clenched around her waist. He broke off the kiss and gasped in her ear the he rubbed his nose against her neck.

Then, to Marta's surprise, he released her and moved back until he walked into the table. Steadying with his hands clamped on it's edges on each side of his hips, rubbed his lips together and grunted. "We're moving too fast," Helm hoarsely said. 

Marta looked off to the bed in the other room, and was going to agree with him. They weren't exhibiting proper behavior, although it was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment. She could still feel his arms around her, his lips against hers, his caressive breath on her neck. She didn't want to be brought back to reality. It wasn't fair. Embarrassed, she dropped her head, staring at her shoes. 

Suddenly, a box of chocolates, the one Helm had pilfered from Montoya's warehouse while he was going to examine the dead Queen, appeared in front of her eyes. "Have one." When she looked up at him, she saw that he had slipped on a dress coat, but not the tie, and had quickly combed his hair. He looked sumptuous, more appealing than the chocolates he held out to her.

Helm picked one himself and nudged it against her lips. When she opened her mouth, he slid it in. He told her as he moved her to the waiting room, "I had this romantic evening planned. I wanted to court you first." He took her shoulders and spun her around as she savored the dark chocolate in her mouth.

Marta was stunned that she hadn't before noticed the table against the opposite wall in Helm's waiting room. Not only did it have a white lace tablecloth atop it, it also held two candlesticks, a bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine along with two crystal wine glasses. She smiled as she watched him light the candles.

"The wine was a gift from Senora Hidalgo when I first arrived in Santa Helena. I never had an occasion to open it until now."

Marta lifted up the bottle. She had seen the same kind in the Alvarado wine cellar and knew it was expensive. Such a bottle was opened only for special occasions. The Alvarado's anniversary, Easter with guests. Marta had only tasted it once, when Tessa completing her schooling and had given her a glass, much to the chagrin of the Don. "This is a wonderful vintage."

"All the more reason for you to enjoy it."

She put it back on the table and hooked her hands behind her back. "I am not used to such luxuries, for myself."

Helm wrapped his arms around her and held her hands behind her back. He lightly kissed her ear and neck. He whispered, "You're going to bathe in them from now on."

~~~~~

Tessa strolled down the street of town with her thoughts on the young Don and his children. Her eye caught the fountain and remembered the last time she had seen Maria Louisa Nogales. Her daughter and son surrounded her as she had to stop to rest, almost to the point of delivery of their baby daughter. Tessa paused at the fountain and clearly remembered the young Dona. Louisa was so young, beautiful, in love, caring to her children, and what Tessa imagined, anxiously awaiting the birth of her newest child. 

She looked over at Dr. Helm's office and remembered that he couldn't save her. Vera had mentioned to her that he had been distraught when he lost his patient. Vera had learned that fact from her maid, who heard it from the milliner, who heard it from... The gossip in the county was always running rampant. It was a wonder to Tessa that not only hadn't the Queen's identity been revealed, but the crimes of the fake Queen hadn't come to light either.

Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed that Vera had appeared at her side and had spoken. "I'm sorry, Vera. What was that?"

"I was asking why you look so sad, Tessa," Vera said, fanning herself. "It must be the heat. I do not think any of us are feeling ourselves."

"Dona Nogales..." Tessa pondered aloud. "Did you ever meet her?"

"She and the Don were at the party introducing me to society after Gaspar and I arrived not long after our marriage in Spain. That was the only time. She kept to herself and her children." Vera looked at the distraught look on Tessa's face and asked, "Her passing was sad, but why are you thinking of her now? Were you close friends? Was today her birthday?"

"No." Tessa shook off her preoccupation and concentrated on her friend before her. "How are you today, Vera?"

"This heat is about ready to make me faint." Vera's fan was going at a blinding speed. "I was hoping a little air would help, but it hasn't."

Vera talked about her trials and tribulations of the morning while Tessa looked back at Montoya's headquarters. "How well do you know the Colonel?"

"Colonel Montoya?" Vera showed surprised at the turn in the conversation. She hesitantly said, "I am sure I do not know what you mean, Tessa."

Tessa took her arm and they lazily walked down the street casually smiling at the passers by. "If you were to ask him a favor, would he do it?"

"If you were to ask him a favor, he would do it. I do not know what you are asking."

"I was just in with Colonel Montoya and wanted to ask him something, but..." Tessa kept walking but Vera stopped to grab a handful of grapes from a basket outside the market and drop a coin in the grocer's outstretched hand. She popped one in her mouth as Tessa stopped to look at her. 

Vera shook her head. "I thought the grape would cool off at least my mouth, but no. What do you need Montoya to do for you?"

"He's having a fiesta soon," Tessa said, trying not to convey her dissatisfaction for Montoya's real reason behind it.

Vera on the other hand, seemed pleased. "He is? It has been so long since the last one. What a wonderful way to lift everyone's spirits."

"That's what he said."

"What is the occasion?"

"The Queen of Swords is dead."

Vera darkened. "Yes. No, that is not a very good reason for a party. Are you sure that is the reason?"

"That is exactly what he just told me. What did you think of the Queen?"

Vera cautiously looked around and Tessa mimicked her, careful not to allow eavesdroppers. Vera said, "Gaspar and I never agreed on that subject. Marcus, well, it was his job to find and kill her. But..." Vera looked around again just to make sure there weren't any eavesdroppers then confessed, "I admired her. I was not born into wealth like you and Gaspar, so I may still see things differently. I think she was on the right side. But as Gaspar always tells me, she hadn't affected our dealings and plantation yet. I may have thought differently about her if she had. But silently, I supported her." She looked at Tessa as if waiting for a reaction. 

Tessa could tell that Vera, not having been born to wealth and privilege, may think that her own reaction to the Queen would be quite different. Once again, Tessa didn't know how to respond. 

"I feel the way you do, Vera," Tessa just told her straight out. If she can't trust Vera, besides Marta, who could she trust? "Montoya was ... gloating about her death. It was almost as if he would have liked to have pulled the trigger himself."

"Oh, he would have," Vera seemed certain. 

"So getting back to the original question, if you were to ask Montoya a favor, would he do it?"

"That would depend on what it was. What do you want me to ask him, and why can't you ask him yourself?"

"I would like him to make sure that Don Nogales receives an invitation to the fiesta."

"Is that all?" Vera lightly giggled, obviously she had expected more. Then she shook her head, "Don Nogales is in mourning."

"Of course."

"He has always been invited, he's a Don. He should attend Montoya's fetes. But he has not accepted them since his beloved wife's death." Suddenly, Vera flashed a sly smile. "Are you interested in him?" 

"Of course. He's one of the ..." Tessa was going to say nice ones, but how would she know that? She decided to say, "few privileged, single men in the county. Marta has been reminding me that it is time I marry. With the cattle rustling, the death of the Queen, I just... I'm nervous to be alone out there. Sure, I have workers but they live in their community and Marta... well, she has nerves of steel, but it isn't the same thing as having a man around."

Vera seemed to note Tessa's embarrassment and laid her hand on her shoulder. "It is about time, Tessa. I've tried to fix you up with available men and you have not cared for any of them."

"I would prefer one of my own generation, Vera."

"And there is Doctor Helm," Vera said as she nodded toward his office.

Tessa grimaced. "He never sees me. He **_tolerates_** me, he doesn't talk to me. And I should marry someone of my own rank."

Vera stepped back a little at that response and shortly said, "I will talk to Colonel Montoya on your behalf."

"You can't tell him that I requested Esteban's presence."

"Esteban? Well, well, well. Do you know him more than you are letting on?"

"No. That is his name."

Vera laughed. "You can consider him invited, Tessa. I'm so happy for you."

"Don't tell anyone. It may turn out that he doesn't like me either. Or he's still in mourning." But his parting words to her... to the Queen... wouldn't leave her mind. _Come back after harvest and I will repay you... or sooner, if you so desire_.

~~~~~

Helm tore himself from his narrow bed and the woman in it to retrieve the wine from the other room. Marta wrapped the sheet around herself and crept to the door to see him standing au natural as he opened the wine bottle that they hadn't gotten to before succumbing to passion. Marta thought that he should pose for a statue. Michelangelo's David had nothing on Robert Helm. Tall, lean, muscles on his arms, legs and even back that rippled with every movement. This was the first time she actually saw him in the day light and he was a sight to behold. Before he could turn around to notice her, she returned to the bed and gathered the sheet around her as she sat with her back toward the wall. When he returned holding the two stems of the glasses with one hand and two oranges in his other. Marta shyly averted her eyes and curled her legs under her.

Helm sat alongside her. She took one glass and he let one of the oranges fall onto her lap. He then pulled part of the sheet around her over his lap. He positioned a lock of her hair behind her shoulder and clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers," he said right before drinking from the glass after she did. 

Marta's eyebrows rose and kept the liquid in her mouth to savor it. After she swallowed and the wine washed down her throat, she stated, "This is exceptional."

They both leaned back against the cool stucco wall that felt good against their naked backs. Their recent exercise made the hot air even more stagnant. Marta bit into the rind of her orange and started to peel it as Helm asked, "How long have you been in California?"

"This time, only a couple of months. Tessa wanted to return after hearing that her father was dead. We had usually come every other year before that. One visit when Tessa was young, it lasted three years."

"It is usually this hot?"

Marta laughed. "Yes. It is. Although this last week has been warmer than usual for this time of year."

Helm groaned and leaned his head against the wall. "Oh God. We've been reduced to talking about the weather."

"Well, it is inordinately hot and a major topic of conversation. You are not used to the heat?"

Marta had sectioned the orange and offered him a piece. They both ate and the sweet juice felt good against the residue of the wine in their mouths. "Not at all. It rains almost every day in England. It's lush, green. That's one thing I do miss. Trees. Greenery."

Marta shifted so she looked at him straight on and cautiously asked him to fill in the blanks of the pieces that she had felt from his story the day before. "I'd like to know more about Ethan."

Helm paused as he popped another section of orange into his mouth. Then he told her from the beginning about his dysfunctional relationship with his own family, his love for the nanny and her son who was more of a mother and brother to him than his own, and about Ethan. Helm continued to drink his wine, eat sections of oranges that Marta would hand him, as he related more and more of the story. After retelling his father's murder as dispassionately as he could, he realized that his wine glass was empty and both oranges had been eaten. Marta gave him her wine glass and urged him to continue with his tale. By the time he was finished with the recounting of his desertion, so was her wine.

He leaned over and set the glasses on the floor. Marta saw the imprints on his back from the wall and gently rubbed them. He sat straight again and thankfully smiled at her, then wrapped his arm around Marta to pull her closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and held him around the waist to let him know that he wasn't a monster. She softly said, "Thank you. I know it was hard to keep having it come back. I appreciate you telling me."

He lifted her head and softly kissed her on the forehead. "It's odd."

"Telling me those things?"

"No." Helm shook his head. "How easily I do. I'm so comfortable with you. It feels to me like you understand and I can tell you anything and you will not judge me."

"I judge you. I have that right. I just do not find blame." A tear slipped from Helm's eye and she wiped it off. "It is in the past. You have a glorious future ahead of you."

"You saw that in your cards?"

She didn't like the condescending way he said that, but understood. He was a man who saw life as it was. There was only black and white. To have faith in tarot would constitute a gray area which he was unwilling to do, for the moment. "You are a strong man, a good man. Fate would have it that you will be happy."

"With you?" Marta was so happy that he felt she needed to be in his life and she was honored also. Helm asked, "Did you tell the senorita about us?"

With a coy nod of her head she said, "Sort of."

"What did she say?"

"She was happy for me. But, I didn't tell her it was you."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Heavens, no. No. I just..."

"Why do you want us to be a secret? I may start to take it personally."

"It is so new. **_I_**__ am not even used to it yet." She softly laughed and played with his fingers between her hands. "And there is the class issue."

"Get that out of your head."

"It's not easy to do when you look at it from my end."

"I left all that behind."

"But you still enjoy the parties and the people. You can not leave it all behind. It is a part of you."

"Keep talking like that and I'm going to stand in the town square and declare my undying love for you."

"Undying love...," she smiled then laughed. "You really do not even know me."

Helm still hadn't shaken off the intensity of his retelling and Marta was disappointed in herself for bringing up such things so quickly or dismissing what he said. "You know a major part of my past. Something I was too shamed to admit even to myself for years. I have no secrets from you, Marta. Ask me anything."

"You do not have to," she began, then told him, "You are like no other man I have ever met."

"I'm honored. What men have you met? You say I don't know you, well, tell me. Where did you grow up? Do you have family? Are your parents alive?"

Marta smiled wide and was all too happy to tell him. "I have a family. I heard that my father Ramon died five years ago but my mother Luisa is still with my band of Gitano. I would get letters from her while I was still in Spain."

"A band?"

"Yes, we are a nomadic people. All my aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandparents until just before I left the band all traveled together. It was only when I joined the Alvarado household that I actually had a roof over my head. All my life I had only seen tents and wagon tarps. My mother is a healer, she taught me well. My father was the leader of the band after my grandfather died. I heard that my uncle Tonio has taken over."

"How did your father die?"

"He was accused of stealing a sheep. What had actually happened was the lamb was stuck in fencing. My band had heard the lamb bleating and stopped to investigate. My father freed it and saw that it had a broken leg. He lifted the lamb to carry it to the farmhouse to alert the owners that it should be tended to. The farmer came out and I suppose that all he saw was a Gypsy holding one of his sheep and assumed he was stealing it. He shot my father."

"My God. I can't even conceive of that."

"It happened many times in our history. We are third class citizens, sometimes thought of as worse than rats." Marta took in deep breath of air not wanting the injustice of others against her people to fester. He hadn't asked for a historical lesson of the Gitano, he had asked about her family specifically. She told him, "We were very close. Very happy, together. There had been singing and dancing and plying our crafts to make money to live. My father was an artist, he was so gifted. He only had to look at a landscape one day and weeks later when he finally got canvas or more paint, he could reproduce exactly how it had looked."

They heard the yells of town people outside the window and they both rose up from the bed to see what was happening. Marta knelt back down again so she wouldn't be seen next to Helm and then quickly started to dress. They heard shouts about the Queen and Marta had assumed that Tessa had decided to reveal that her 'death' was a lie and appear to them in person. As she reconnected her corset, the intense worry for the life of her charge rose again in full force. As she searched for her hair tie, she realized that they were calling on Montoya to give them the Queen's body so they can properly bury her.

Helm finally realized that Marta was dressed but before he could say anything, she said, "I must see what is happening."

She found the tie on the floor by the table and rebound her hair as Helm pulled on some clothes. In the exam room, he saw Montoya and a few of his men appear in front of the crowd. When he went to the window to watch, Marta joined him, but stood back from the window a ways to not be seen.

The soldiers quieted the crowd when Montoya began, "Friends." Marta saw him stand straight and pronounce to the people, "I know what a trauma you have all endured with the passing of the Queen of Swords. Even though she and I did not see eye to eye on many issues, I am also shocked by her murder. I assure you, her murderer will be found and he or she will hang in the square."

Some people cheered those words, others seem to look at each other with resolution that Montoya was just telling them what they wanted to hear. One men yelled, "Her body! We want to give her a proper burial."

Montoya lowered his head for an instant then lifted it to speak again. "I have done wrong, but it was only to protect you. She is already buried." People heckled, but Montoya's posture and raised hand for them to quiet made them do just that. "I wanted to give her a truly fitting place of rest for you all. I wanted to make all the arrangements and was waiting until her tombstone could be carved before revealing the information of where her body lies."

There were a few naysayers in the crowd, to which Montoya continued loudly, "The Queen had many enemies, she was murdered, the last thing I wanted was for her body to be violated, stolen, or worse. If you find my actions to be less than what you expected or wanted, for that I apologize. I was trying to make this devastating incident as painless as possible for all of you who cared for her. Please, continue lighting candles in her honor. Continue to respectfully mourn her. Once the tombstone is finished, there will be a funeral for the entire community. One that is truly fitting for a Queen."

With that, Montoya returned to his headquarters. The crowd stood and communicated with each other in a civil tone, then slowly disbursed. Helm told Marta, "That man is a sight to behold," as he shook his head. "Earlier this morning, I went to her body to retrieve the bullet and he told me that she was buried in the desert and a manzana tree would be planted on top of it. I have a feeling that the tombstone he mentioned is yet to even be ordered."

"I should go," she slowly said, not wanting to, but she had to tell Tessa what had happened and to know that she was all right. She told Helm, "The workers, they should know the news as soon as possible, that there will be a funeral for the Queen. They will be happy."

"Should I escort you home?"

"I'll be fine, Dr. Helm."

"Robert." He laughed at her slip. "I'm Robert."

Marta chuckled at the reflex of calling him as she had known him by since his arrival to Santa Helena. "Yes. Of course. Robert."

He handed her the box of chocolates and told her, "Don't forget these. Also, do not let Maria Teresa have them."

"Why not? She would love them."

"They are yours."

"We share. What is mine is hers."

"But what is hers is not yours."

"No, that is **_not_** true. You do not know our relationship."

Helm smiled, she could tell he knew he had gone too far. "Invite me to dinner so I can see for myself. To my eye, she's a spoiled brat who only thinks when things are pointed out to her."

"That is not at **_all_** fair. You have only talked to her, what? Three times? In a social situation. You do not know anything about her." Marta's instinctive protection of Tessa made her words come out too fast and hard, but he didn't know what Tessa was and what she had to deal with on a day to day basis. The only thing that Marta was happy about was that Tessa's role of playing 'Maria Teresa' had fooled even the doctor.

"True. I apologize," he quickly said. "Invite me to dinner. But then again, Senorita Alvarado wouldn't know who she's inviting to dinner if you never tell her about me."

"I need just a little more time."

"You're impossible," he said as he hugged her. After a lingering kiss, he whispered to her, "But I love you anyway."

"If you keep saying that and I will start to believe it."

"I've never meant it more in my life."

She was going to melt and tell him that she felt exactly the same, from the first moment she saw him and thought he was unattainable. But he was and she had him. For the moment. They were from different worlds and in her mind, it just could not work in the long run.

Helm lifted her head and told her, "Tomorrow. You will come to me again. Some how. Fall over another bucket if you have to, but don't hurt yourself. That way no one will suspect the carnal knowledge going on in here that you don't want anyone to know."

She laughed and wrapped her arms tight around his waist. She just wanted to hold him for a while longer. She didn't want this time to end. She didn't want the outside forces to kill what they had. His heart beat was constant against hers as they gently rocked back and forth. "I will come," she promised.

~~~~~

Will be continued soon

~**Jo**

  
  


   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo



	5. The Tarot Reading

**ENCOUNTER 5  
THE TAROT READING**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]  
[http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore][2]  
[http://www.geocities.com/enyajo][3]

**RATING**: G

**CHARACTERS**: T/Q M H CM OCs Don Nogales, Widow Olga Heche, Jurgen Heche

**SUMMARY**: As Tessa continues to investigate Montoya's goings-on, Marta reads Helm's future.

**DISCLAIMER**: The characters and belong to Fireworks and hope they continue the show!

**ACKNOWLEDGMENTS**: Thanks to Brig and Julie for help with tarot reading. They were at a disadvantage because I only let them see the tarot scene so they had no idea what I was going to make of the reading for story purposes. Wonderful job, ladies! Huge thanks to Eliza for her tarot expertise and also for giving the rest of this the once over. I'm wholeheartedly grateful.

~~~~~

**EVENING**

After thinking about them all day, Tessa decided to call on the Heche's to see if they were indeed gone for good with their livestock unprotected or if she had just happened to miss them that morning. She was dressed as the Queen to show the family--if they were home--that the Queen was not dead, was still protecting people, and was certainly not a thief. It was also easier to ride the distance to the Heche hacienda in her Queen uniform than in a full skirted dress as Maria Teresa. Tessa had planned on appearing to the family as a concerned Dona who had just heard of their plight but it would seem too much of a handout if the 100 reales came from Maria Teresa. Also, if they remembered how the other Queen looked, they would see as Don Nogales had, that they did not look the same.

The Heche's sheep couldn't be left unattended for long or they would certainly end up on a ship commissioned by Montoya. There was a lamp burning in the Heche house and it made Tessa nervous. She was glad that they were in residence, but was trepidatious about seeing them. She was certain that her visit with the German family wouldn't go as smoothly as it had with Don Nogales. For one thing, she was certain that she wouldn't find an young, attractive Don. Also, they may not be as easily convinced about her innocense, and she couldn't speak German. Hopefully they had lived in California long enough to learn the language. Tessa hitched Chico's reins to a fence and walk to the window.

Olga Heche was alone in the kitchen doing the dishes. There weren't any children around; there were no people at all walking around the property. Getting strength from a deep inhalation, she walked to the door. As soon as the widow saw movement outside the door's window, she cowered against the counter and held up her hand in fright. Tessa quickly opened the door and shut it behind her. "No, please. I did not come to hurt you."

The widow grabbed a rolling pin and yelled, "Nein! Nein!" Tessa maneuvered out of the way of the thrusts of the rolling pin. Olga Heche yelled, "No reales!"

Tessa grabbed her hand. Her first instinct was to twist her arm, break the wrist, anything she had to do to wrestle the weapon out of it, but she wasn't in combat with a soldier. She carefully held Olga's wrist just strong enough to make the rolling pin fall from the older German's hand without breaking her wrist. Even though the woman was short and her wrinkles and gray hair made her appear frail, she was strong. Tessa warned, "Sh!"

After the widow dropped the rolling pin, she ran to the corner, shaking her head and cried out. "No. Nein," Tessa said as she shook her head also. "I am the **_real_** queen. **_Not_** here to take."

Suddenly, the widow stopped shrieking and looked at Tessa. She looked her over from head to toe. She even picked up the lamp from the table and held it close to Tessa's face and gazed so deeply into her eyes through the lace mask that Tessa felt she could look straight into her soul. Tessa smiled a friendly smile, revealing her teeth to show that she wasn't a threat. "Parecido...," the widow murmured. "Sie sind nicht sie."

Tessa was relieved she could speak a little Spanish. Since she was shaking her head, Tessa figured that she realized that the Queen who stole from her wasn't now in her kitchen. Tessa nodded, "Si. I am not the woman who robbed you," she said slowly. She pulled the pouch out of her pocket and handed the reales to her. Since she didn't take it, Tessa laid it on the table. "Reales," she told her. "Yours."

"La Reina?"

Tessa nodded and pointed to herself, "Genuino La Reina. Si."

Olga Heche started talking in German with a few Spanish words thrown in, but Tessa couldn't figure out what she was saying. The German's demeanor was one of relief, no longer fearful, and seemed to realize what Tessa had come to accomplish.She wanted to warn the woman about leaving her livestock unprotected but the only Spanish words that the widow understood were ovejo and ganado--sheep and cattle. Senora Heche seemed proud of her animals but didn't seem to understand what Tessa was trying to warn her about. Tessa paused and scratched her head. She didn't want to leave until the Heche's understood the danger.

Suddenly a young man's voice ran out from the living room. "Salir de!"

Tessa whirled around to see a teenage boy with a rifle in his hands standing in the doorway. "Salir de! **_Pronto_**__!" His blond hair framed his beet red, angry face. He was the man of the house, the family's protector after the death of Senor Heche. Tessa put her hands up to calm him down. He was standing with his knees bent, his shoulders tense, his finger poised on the trigger, ready to fire.

Widow Heche stepped in front of Tessa, blocking her from the aim of the rifle barrel and admonished her son in German. Tessa couldn't make head or tail of what they were saying but was glad that the short, but stern, woman was on her side. The boy lowered the barrel of the gun and they both turned to look at the Queen. 

Tessa, nervous, just smiled. The boy said in perfect Spanish, "I am sorry, La Reina. We are still on guard after the appearance of the other one."

"I understand. What is your name?" 

"Jurgen."

Tessa was glad when he put the rifle back on the gun rack on the living room wall. At a bedroom's doorway stood two little girls, twins to Tessa's eye, about ten years old. She smiled to them and they ducked back into their bedroom. When the young man returned to the kitchen, Senora Heche had already set out cookies and was making lemonade. Tessa tried to tell her that she shouldn't go through any trouble, but Jurgen told her, "Mother will not hear of it."

She smiled as she took the seat that Jurgen motioned to at the table. She told Jurgen, but made sure to look at Olga as she was talking to make sure that she was understanding, "You cannot leave your livestock unprotected. I rode by early this morning to talk to you but there was no one here."

"The workers should have been," Jurgen said. Then was angry as he looked to his mother. "We had to go to Monterey to close my father's will. The workers said they would be here." He shook his head and grimaced. "You can not trust anyone."

Tessa said, "You can trust me. I have not had the chance to tell you that I am sorry for your father's passing. I lost my father not too long ago and I know how you feel."

"Thank you, La Reina. It is hard." 

Jurgen took the time to fill in his mother in German what had been said. Tessa sipped the lemonade and took a bite of the cookie and smiled that it was good. Olga took the Queen's hand and said, "Gracias, La Reina." 

Tessa motioned to the pouch she had previously laid on the table and told Jurgen, "That is 100 reales. Take it. I will find out who robbed you and return what you have lost. That is for you to get by."

"Why?" Jurgen lifted the pouch and then tossed it in front of Tessa. "If you did not steal from us, why give us reales?"

"I should have known what was happening. I promise I will find her, or who she was working with, if she was. Have you heard that the Queen is dead?" Jurgen, confused, shook his head no. "There was a woman who was dressed as me that was shot and killed. Everyone thinks that I am dead. It would be easier for me to work if I can keep that secret for a little while longer. The thief was killed, but I was not. I will find your reales and return them."

Jurgen spoke to his mother in German what she had said. Senora Heche was surprised, then sad, then grateful as he related the information. Tessa said, "I will keep an eye on their ranch. You are a good man, Jurgen. Continue watching over your mother and sisters."

His chest puffed up with the compliments and he replied, "You have nothing to worry about, La Reina. We will keep your secret. Thank you for the warning."

Tessa said, "Thank you for the lemonade and cookies. I hope you will be fine. I'll look in on you again in the near future."

~~~~~

Later, Jurgen laid in his bed, he couldn't sleep even though he knew he had to be up at the crack of dawn to milk the cows. Tomorrow would also be sheep shearing day which was back-breaking work. They had to let most of the workers go so it was up to him and his oldest sister to help the few farmhands that were left. 

Jurgen remembered how his father had told them that life would be so easy in the new world, how they would have riches beyond their comprehension. Before his father died, they had thirty workers, they were one of the top ranchers in the colony. Before his father died, Jurgen was able to go to school and learn Spanish, was able to ride all day on his prized stallion. Others did the work that made the ranch successful. Their father left them in debt that they didn't know they had. Being robbed by the fake queen had depleted their nest egg that the sale of half the herd had given them to run the ranch. He had begged his mother to allow them to return to Germany and relatives, to start over. His mother was adamant that to stay in Alta California was her beloved husband's wish and that was exactly what they were going to do.

After staring at the ceiling for what seemed to him to be hours remembering and deciding his family's future, Jurgen came up with a plan. After the simple plan came into his head, he was able to fall into a comfortable asleep in moments.

~~~~~

Marta returned to the Alvarado stables with the mare and found that Chico was gone. Marta said a quick prayer and hoped that Tessa knew what she was doing by going out dressed as the Queen when it was easier on Marta's nerves that everyone thought the Queen was dead. When she went inside, she saw that the stew that she had left before heading to town, and Robert, had been eaten. Marta's worry over Tessa suddenly stopped as there was a blast of thunder from the sky. Since rain had been non-existent for months, Marta at first thought it was cannon fire. Only when rain drops started pelting the roof and windows did Marta jump with delight. "It's raining!" She yelled to no one in particular, "The heat will break!" 

Marta happily went through the house to shut all the windows and doors that had been hanging open to allow whatever breeze there was into the house. In her bedroom, she saw Robert's handkerchief on her bureau with the initials, RB. Robert Birchwick. Robert, the Earl Birchwick, that was his true name. She was sad for him that his life had started with such promise, such riches, but the forces of war and his father's greed had made Robert step away from all of it, to renounce his birthright. 

She held it to her chin and got a flash of him. It was fast, so fast she couldn't figure out what she saw. She rolled the handkerchief in her hands but she couldn't see anything more. She was certain that the flash wasn't just the memory of lying in his arms, sitting next to him as he painfully related his story, eating chocolate or drinking wine. She had the feeling that he was in trouble. 

Marta went into the living room and opened the box that contained her tarot cards and brought them to the table. She lightly tied the handkerchief around her wrist to have an essence of Robert with her as she acted as diviner. Then she put the major arcana cards in order from 0 to XXI. As she shuffled the deck, she thought of Robert so she could do his reading.

Marta held the cards in her hand and thought of Robert. Everything but the questioner left her mind so she could focus. One should never read their own cards and that, in a sense, was what she was doing. She had to be careful to read what was actually there, not just what she wanted to see. 

The first card of a reading represents the questioner's current situation. Marta flipped over the first card, the Fool. Marta hesitated for a moment, knowing that the Fool could mean many things. It could represent the start of a new adventure, a new way of thinking, learning a life lesson. The person could embrace laughter and enthusiasm, two emotions that Robert Helm had that afternoon. But it could also mean impetuousness, delirium, irrationality. Her first thought was that Robert should tread lightly.

The next card which was to cross the first represented immediate influences, or obstacles. Because the card would not be right side up or upside down, it could take on a positive or negative position. That card was the Lovers. A smile crept across her lips and her entire body warmed from savoring the last few hours that she had spent with him. She placed it crosswise over the Fool. The Lovers could represent harmony, trust, the beginning of a relationship. All were certainly true for both of them. But it could also represent conflicts within a person trying to unite them. Warrior, healer; titled Earl, a regular guy. To look at it another way, his lover could influence his life. Robert could lead with his heart instead of his head.

Wheel of Fortune card appeared to depict his goal, destiny. She had told him that afternoon that he was heading for a glorious future, and that could very well be true. But the hand of fate could intervene and thrown him off balance.

His card signifying his embedded past was the Hermit. A man who is searching for spiritual enlightenment, or to come to terms with a secret past. The Hermit could also mean withdrawal, retreat from action, self-denial, or the fear of discovery. 

For what just recently came into being, the card was the Empress. Motivation to accomplish a goal, practicality. A personage of wealth, bloodline, family. That didn't seem right to Marta as Helm had denounced his birthright. The Empress can be about finding the loving, creative and abundant side of your own nature, fertility. In the past, Marta had often found that the Empress was an indicator of possible happiness in love and opening oneself to the beauty and abundance of life. The person is usually holding back from love and happiness because of past hurts and fears. It all seemed to fit the doctor, except the only thing that gave Marta pause was the fact that the card was ill-dignified. When she flipped it over, it was upside down. Because of that, the card's typical meaning could be either more intense, or it would be thwarted. 

Marta continued flipping the cards. The next card, the card to signify what was ahead of Robert, was the card that Marta had dreaded turning over. The flashes she had when first holding the handkerchief left her feeling weighed down. She slowly turned it over and completed the layout. Death. She sighed deeply. It was the card that people came to know as exactly what it was named. Death. Her stomach felt like it was carrying a lead ball as she looked at it. A tingle flipped up her spine and neck. 

Marta's primal reaction had come too quickly. The Death card rarely referred to physical death. All people die, it was inevitable. The Death card could mean so much more than that. It could mean a rebirth, the death of the old life and the start of a new one. It could mean that his life had irrevocably changed and was starting a new life, with her. Marta realized what she was thinking and mused, _It is only how one chooses to look at it._

Of all the cards on the table, there was only one that wasn't dog eared, faded, as the rest were. That card was the Empress, in the position of what had recently come into being for Robert. She knew she should be looking at the overall to tell what the cards were saying, but she could only focus on the Empress. It seemed so out of place. Marta sat back in her chair and thought about what it could possibly represent. 

Since The Lovers was the present influence on Robert, she realized that she herself could be a potent influence on his life. What from her life could have anything to do with that particular card being drawn? Marta picked up the Empress card and really looked at it. The Empress sat upon a stone bench, but it was softened because of pillows and blankets. She was a comforted woman, a well to do woman. The sign of femininity was by her right leg. The nurturer, the bearer of life. Marta's hand started to shake. Birth. **_Children_**!

Suddenly, it came to her. The nightmares she had during her first days in the Alvarado household, the last tragic days of her married life, all came rushing back at her. Marta quickly stood, the chair fell back to the floor.

"The Empress!" Marta doubled over, almost ready to faint dead away as her head felt light and blood rushed to her face as she clearly remembered. "Madre dios!" She held onto the table for support and realized that over the years, she had been very successful forgetting all about Senora Reboso.

Thunder crashed and lightening flashed in the window as Marta fell to her knees. Then she heard Chico neigh as he passed the house, toward the stables. Marta quickly gathered the cards and put them back in the box then untied Robert's handkerchief from her wrist and put it in her pocket. 

Marta opened the kitchen door as Tessa ran inside. She was dripping wet and grabbed a towel from the counter to mop off her face. "It's raining, Marta! Finally! It has to cool off now."

Marta tightly smiled and told her to get out of the wet clothes. "I will," Tessa said. "It is a beautiful night! The Heche's know the truth about the Queen and I gave them some reales to get by on until I find the fake Queen and her stash."

Tessa excitedly recounted her evening, including the ride home when the rain clouds came and what they looked like as she hadn't seen many in America. Meanwhile, Marta was systematically going through the motions of getting Tessa out of those wet clothes, into her nightgown, dry her hair and get her to bed. 

As Tessa finally did crawl onto her bed, she asked, "What is wrong?"

Marta quickly thought of a reason for Tessa. "I heard Montoya's speech about the Queen's death today. I am not in a good mood."

"What did he say?"

"He is going to throw a funeral fit for a queen and have a tombstone made for her grave."

"No. You're kidding!" Tessa laughed. "Did the towns people demand it?"

"Montoya offered before they demanded anything."

"That news should not leave you in such a mood. Montoya thinks I am dead, or the Queen is dead. This can only work to our advantage. Why are you sad?"

"I do not think going around dressed as the Queen is a good idea. I was here and you were not and it was late and ..." _And Robert is going to die because of me_, Marta thought but couldn't verbalize. "It is everything, Tessa, and nothing to do with you." She kissed Tessa's cheek. "I am glad you are back home safely. Good night."

Tessa laid back on her bed as Marta closed the door behind her. She listened to the rain and thunder that was at a distance now and wondered if Marta and her lover had a quarrel. She was going to get out of bed to talk to Marta, but didn't know what to say. Marta certainly wasn't sharing a lot of information. She laid back again and covered herself with a sheet, then a blanket as the air started to chill. As she fell asleep, Tessa hoped that Marta would confide in her. If it was a problem with whoever it was that Marta was in love with, Tessa hoped it would all work out for her. She also decided to be as nice as she could for a little while.

~~~~~

**MORNING**

Tessa awoke before Marta and started oatmeal that would warm them after the chilly night. She made sure that the fruit that was left wasn't overripe and put the good dishes on the table for them to eat breakfast. When the oatmeal was almost done, Tessa decided to look in on Marta and saw her sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed looking out the window. "Good morning," Tessa lightly said with a smile that Marta didn't see.

Without looking at her, Marta grabbed her robe and said, "Good morning, Tessa. Why are you up so early?"

"It was cold," Tessa said, rubbing her arms. "I have started breakfast."

"You did not have to do that, Tessita. I will be right out."

"I know I did not have to do it. I wanted to."

"Thank you." Marta went to her closet to decide which dress to wear for the long day of chores that she had mentally made to keep her mind off Robert's impending death. She had the thought to warn him, but he wouldn't listen anyway. She had also been taught from a very young age that if you see something terrible in another's fortune with the tarot that it was best to keep it to yourself. Maybe the forces of fate would smile on the questioner.

Tessa asked, "Marta? Do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

"About whatever is wrong with you. There is something on your mind. Something happened. Would you please tell me what it is? Is it your friend? The man?"

Marta sighed and said, "That is over, Tessa."

"Oh," Tessa said in surprise. "That would account for your.... I see. I am sorry. What happened?"

"It was not meant to be."

Marta ran her fingers through her curls and then started to tie it back for the day. Tessa said, "I will call you when breakfast is ready."

Marta nodded, still lost in thought. Tessa said again, "I am very sorry, Marta. If you want to talk, I am here."

Marta smiled at her and when her hair was tied up, she put her arm around Tessa's shoulders and walked her back into the kitchen. Tessa didn't like the sudden change in demeanor, she did that when she was pretending. Marta said, "Thank you for making us something to eat. Oatmeal will make us both strong today. I have a lot of chores to do." 

~~~~~

After breakfast, and a little argument about Tessa insisting on dressing as the Queen and going to see what Montoya's troops were up to, Marta gave in and told her good luck and went to work. After completely cleaning the house from top to bottom with the help of one of the ranch hand's daughters, Carmella, it almost sparkled. Marta let Carmella go back to helping her own mother. She went out to the front porch to see if Tessa would soon arrive home and only saw the Dona's dead rose bushes that she hadn't been able to bring back to life. 

Marta walked to the stables to ride to a neighboring ranch to ask their maid if she could get some cuttings for new rose bushes. She had always hoped that she could make Dona Alvarado's roses come back and had always refused the previous offers. It was time, if only for her own mind, that something would have that rebirth that was in Robert's tarot reading.

~~~~~

**AFTERNOON**

Montoya was just showing a visiting dignitary from Spain the door after having tea when one of his soldiers alerted him to another visitor. Montoya cordially bade farewell to the dignitary with hopes that the serene afternoon in Santa Helena would make the best impression on him. If he would tell the Spanish court that Santa Helena was in capable hands, it would go a long way toward getting Montoya another promotion. To Montoya's mind, the governorship wasn't too far off in the future.

After the dignitary's carriage pulled out of town, Montoya asked the soldier who the visitor could be. "A German boy," the guard replied.

As Montoya climbed the outside stairs to his office once again, the soldier following, he asked, "Name?"

"Jurgen Heche."

Montoya stood in his office, knowing about the German immigrants who ran a large sheep and cattle ranch. He had been thinking that since the Senor died of consumption, their cattle would be an easy mark. But then again, it would be too easy. If the quiet family lost some of their herd, they could get sympathy. Now the son wanted to bend his ear. Montoya asked, "What does he want?"

"To speak to you, Colonel."

"Everyone wants to speak to me," Montoya said with an easy smile. "Be more specific."

"He wouldn't say, Colonel. Only that it was of the upmost importance."

They heard voices outside the other door and Montoya opened it. Jurgen Heche stood proud between two guards. As soon as he saw the Colonel, he excitedly said, "Colonel Montoya, you want to hear what I have to say. I have important news."

"Then speak," Montoya commanded. He had heard 'important news' from unimportant people since the first day he took command. Since the meeting with the dignitary had gone well, the Queen was dead, and Grisham was training fresh recruits, Montoya was in the mood to relax. 

Jurgen stood and looked at the three guards that surrounded he and Montoya. "In private?"

"No," Montoya told him. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell them. I trust them with my life. And they will **_defend_** my life if there is any threat."

"Before I tell you what I know," Jurgen began, on guard. "I will need payment."

Montoya finally broke out in that smile that had been playing on his lips. "Of course you do. I do not pay for words, young man. I pay for action. Words can be skewed, words can be lies. I only pay for the truth."

"This is the truth, Colonel." Jurgen smiled in return. "And you will pay handsomely once you have heard it."

"Let me hear it. I will decide."

"The Queen is alive."

"Throw him in jail," Montoya commanded to his soldiers and walked back into his office.

Before Montoya shut the door and the guards roughly took each of his arms, Jurgen yelled out, "I saw her last night. She was in my home!"

Montoya paused with his hand on the door knob. He debated the words of the boy. The death of the Queen had been too easy. The one who had killed her hadn't come forward for his reward as expected. He glared at the young man with all the evil the Colonel could muster to show the lad that it could mean death if he was lying.

Jurgen excitedly nodded. "It is the truth, Colonel. She came to us last night."

"Why?"

"We had been robbed by a Queen two months ago," Jurgen told them all. "She said she had just heard about the other Queen and was compensating the victims with a few reales. She felt guilty, Colonel. She is alive. She stood just inches away from me."

Montoya remembered the conversation with Maria Teresa, and that the Queen had been robbing people. That was news to him, but he trusted Senorita Alvarado, and she was worried that she would be next. Of course she was worried about her cattle, but had mentioned that she was missing some things and wondered if the Queen had stolen them. The Queen could have been shot by one of her victims. That may be why the killer hadn't come forward. But the real Queen, if she was alive, hadn't made an appearance since a dead Queen laid in the back of that wagon. The driver had convinced Grisham that he had only found her body and brought it into Santa Helena. 

Montoya's mind flipped through all of those thoughts in milliseconds. He looked at Jurgen's face, really scrutinized it from every angle. Montoya had looked upon the face of liars before, men who claimed to have information, but were later exposed as frauds. This young man wasn't hiding anything as far as Montoya could tell. 

He nodded to his men to release the boy and told them, "That information does not bear repeating." All three soldiers nodded, they would not tell a soul. He told Jurgen, "Come inside. I have questions, you will provide answers."

After the doors were closed behind them and it was only Jurgen and Montoya in his office. Montoya motioned for the boy to take a seat opposite the desk as he sunk into his leather chair. "Why did you not say that you had been robbed right after it happened?"

"We are a quiet family, Colonel. We are outsiders here. We are German, not Spanish. My mother did not want to involve anyone else."

"After your father's death, you are head of family. It would be your choice whether to come forward or not."

"I **_am_** the head of my family, Colonel, but I respected my mother's wishes. Surely you understand that."

Montoya liked this boy and slightly nodded. "How much did the Queen steal from you?"

"1500 reales," Jurgen said. Montoya saw the young man's head bow forward in what had to be embarrassment for not protecting his family. "My father left outstanding loans. That was the only thing we had until we can sell the wool and some cattle. That is all I am asking, Colonel. Please loan us 1500 reales so we can re-hire our workers. When you catch the real Queen, you will have the amount that she stole from us."

Montoya set his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his forefingers together under his chin and continued to stare down the German. "Who is she? Who is the Queen?"

"I do not know, sir. She was masked, it was dark."

Montoya moved his fingers from his chin to point at the boy. "If you are lying to me, you are dead."

"I am not lying," Jurgen confidently said. "I swear on the soul of my father."

~~~~~

The Queen spent the day following, at a safe distance, a small regiment being lead by Grisham. She had expected them to round up more livestock, start to herd them toward the sea and an awaiting ship. After hours of watching them go through maneuvers, she realized that it would be extremely stupid of Montoya to rustle again so soon. The bright sun made the blue uniforms of the soldiers more intensely colorful. She could see through her telescope that their shoes and the bottoms of their trousers were caked with mud from marching on the freshly wet ground.

She pulled some hard tack from her saddle bag for a snack and gave a piece to Chico, who lapped it up and wanted more. He was a horse of action and had been standing quietly for hours. She petted his snout and told him, "Okay, let us go get some exercise. You have been a good boy today." She gave him the rest of the hardtack and walked him away from the soldiers. When they were completely out of their sight, she climbed on his back and they rode off. Chico ran full out, she let him go wherever he wanted. He ran with his ears up, seemingly unbridled.

She was going to go home, but decided to let Chico run as long as he wanted to. She made him stop by a stream that the rain had produced to drink. As she bend down to get a handful of water for herself, Don Nogales again crept into her thoughts. She could see the smile on her face dance on the softly rippling water surface. He had told her to come back anytime. She had been thinking of him for two days straight.

_Why not_? She drew Chico's reins back to mount him again. "Just to see how he and his family are getting along. That's all," she told Chico, who shook his head from side to side to get rid of the collected water on his mouth.

She laughed and said, "Be quiet. Just gallop."

~~~~~

Helm hadn't seen Marta. He was convinced that she would come to him at noon. He had prepared a meal for them from fresh groceries he had purchased at the market. After eating his portion, he gave the rest to the neighbor next door. Just the week before, the old man had fallen and broke his leg. He was a widower and Helm knew he probably wasn't doing a lot of cooking. The meal was accepted with gratitude.

Helm couldn't figure out what was keeping Marta in late afternoon. He wondered if Senorita Alvarado had a list of chores for her to do and couldn't get away. He had to admonish himself. According to Marta, Maria Teresa wasn't the spoiled senorita that he had pegged. It was a quiet day in Santa Helena and no one was in need of his services. He decided to ride out to the Alvarados and find out what was so important that Marta couldn't come to him. Helm was certain that she would have if she could.

~~~~~

Tessa rode Chico to the bluff above the Nogales ranch. There were many men picking apples from the trees in the orchid, while Don Esteban tried to hang on to the reins of a bucking black mustang in the corral. Three men watched and commented as the horse was in the middle of a tantrum. Tessa noticed the Don's young son, Alessandro, sitting atop the fence cheering his father on. She could tell that Esteban was trying to break the wild horse, which was a difficult task. She remembered seeing one of her father's workers get a horseshoe to the face while trying to do it when she was young and the prospect had always scared her. _Why wouldn't he leave that job for someone else to do_?

She took out her telescope to see Esteban close up. What she saw made her stomach flip over with delight, her heart skip a beat and the hair on her neck tingle. His muscular arms rippled with each pull of the reins to control the horse who would be startled by any little movement. The Don peered at his cheering son to quiet him, then pulled the horse's snout close as if to talk to him. He gently petted the snout and it's neck. Tessa pulled Chico back from the bluff and tied his reins to a branch then paced back toward the edge and knelt down to hide herself from view. 

By the time she was situated and the telescope trained on him, he was carefully lifting a blanket onto the horse's back. The stallion stood calm, but Tessa could see that it's eyes were trained on all around him. Don Nogales made the horse comfortable as another man put a saddle over the blanket on the horse's back. She was in awe of how the mustang was under the Don's spell. It flinched, turned his head, rose up from his front feet, but the Don's constant talking and rubbing made him calm down as men connected the straps of the saddle over it's belly.

Tessa could see that Esteban was ready to try to mount the horse. She had the intense visions of her father's worker who was tossed off and trampled in front of her young eyes. Her father had admonished her for being out in the corral as she could have been hurt herself. Tessa watched intently as Esteban put his foot in the stirrup, then climbed up. She almost didn't want to look. She was horrified to see the horse buck and lowered the telescope and looked away. Chico was eating some mesquite leaves.

When she hadn't heard streams or shouts over the wild neighs of the black horse, she worked up the courage to look back at them. The Don was on the horse, holding on for dear life, as the horse galloped and bucked around the circular corral. One of the men lifted Alessandro from the fence before the horse and Don got too close. The horse reared back, then leaned forward to buck off the passenger. Esteban held on. He careened to the left, then to the right, back on the saddle, then almost fell off the front, but he held on. Soon, the horse calmed down again and seemed to know his fate. Tessa looked again through the telescope. He slowed from the wild jerking around the pen into a slow and easy trot. Don Esteban leaned forward to pet the horse once again and speak to him. 

~~~~~

As Helm neared the Alvarado's, he wondered if he should have an excuse to be there. The simplest thing to say was the truth--he was there to see Marta. She had fallen days ago and had two bruises that he wanted to tend to, but she was a healer and the last time he saw her, her wounds were no longer a problem. Helm remembered the last time they were together from start to finish. She was so beautiful, exotic in her pom pom corset. Her eyes were so soft, open to him, comforting, yet tantalizing. Her touch was light when he had needed reassurance when retelling of his life, all encompassing during the throws of passion. 

The truth was clear, he needed to see Marta. He would declare it to all at the residence, including Maria Teresa, that she belonged with him. If Marta wasn't open to marriage, he would make himself a constant visitor, so they had better get used to it. Those thoughts made him smile. But Marta didn't want that. He asked himself, _Why_? He tried to think of a reason. _I'm not Gitano? I'm not good enough? She's ashamed of my past but is too good of a soul to say so? Is she only using me?_

None of the reasons seemed the right one. When he rode into the yard, the first thing he saw was Marta hunched over the flower bed to the left of the front door. She hadn't seen him, didn't seem to have heard him as she hadn't turned around at the sound of an approaching horse. It was only when Helm's horse snorted that she stopped pulling at the dead rose bushes and turned around. When she did, she gasped and went back to her work.

Helm dismounted and looked around. There was no one else in the vicinity. He laughed to himself. _That wasn't the reaction I expected_. He also didn't expect her to be safe, outside, so attainable. In the back of his mind, he was thinking she was trapped under a heavy piece of furniture and that was the only reason she hadn't come to him.

He pulled at the reins of his horse and walked him toward the steps. "It's getting late in the day."

Marta's back tensed, the only indication she gave that she had heard him. He asked, "What time do you usually lunch? I usually eat around noon. You know, the noon meal? Lunch? Right before you left yesterday, that was what we had agreed." He lightly laughed. "I even cooked it."

Marta sat back on her ankles and turned to him. "You should go," she said in a monotone.

That certainly wasn't what he expected. If fact, it shocked him. "What?" When she didn't answer, only continued to pull out the dead bushes, he walked to her and took at her arm. "Look at me."

"Please do not touch me," she said as she yanked her arm from his grip. She looked like a little girl lost to Helm and he couldn't understand why.

Helm stood with his hands on his hips and tried to think of why she was acting so differently toward him. "Is something the matter with the Princess?"

"No!" Marta's voice boomed, surprising them both. She softly said, "Her name is Tessa."

Helm tried again, "With a farm hand?"

"No."

"You had an inordinate amount of laundry to finish?"

"No."

"Those dead plants just couldn't wait for another day?"

"No. Tessa is upset that they are dead. They were planted by her mother. The soil has been loosened from the rain last night, so it is a perfect opportunity to replant them. I got those cuttings and they must go into the ground soon."

Helm walked toward her again. "Let me help you."

"No," Marta said forcefully.

Helm said, "Well, it looks like you've just begun this endeavor. What have you been doing all day?"

"Doing my duties," she said as she yanked the last bush out of the ground and hit her hand against the roots to release the mud back onto the flower bed.

"Well, I've been waiting for you."

"Do not do that," she said as she tossed the dead bush onto the wheelbarrow that sat on the other side of the flower bed.

Helm had enough. "What is the matter? What did I do?"

"Nothing."

"I must have done something. Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me!"

"You will not understand," she said as she stood and started to use a pitchfork to till the soil before planting the new bushes.

Helm ripped the pitchfork out of her hands and yelled, "No secrets, remember? Tell me what is the matter!" He threw the pitchfork behind him, spooking his horse, who rose up and trotted back.

Marta flattened herself against the house and would not look at him. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her that whatever it was that happened was no cause to cut off all emotion toward him. Whatever it was, they would work it out. He was going to, but she seemed so scared, of him. "I am sorry I threw that. I just want to know what it is. Tell me," he softly said.

It seemed to take great pains for her to say, "You are going to die."

"We all are," he lightly chuckled.

"Soon." Marta said it with such dread, that Helm wondered what melodrama she had fashioned for herself. "It is your fate."

"So I can't be happy until that day comes?" His lighthearted response had fallen on deaf ears. "I'm not going to die, that's ridiculous."

"I saw it in the cards."

"That's nonsense."

Her eyes flared and Helm knew he had gone too far. He hurriedly said, "How? How am I supposed to die? Does it happen today, tonight, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, when I'm 80? When does it happen?"

Marta stood like a stone watching him. She finally said, "I told you that you would not understand." She quickly shook her head with anger. "I was not supposed to tell you. A questioner should never know about their danger."

"You're talking nonsense."

"It is **_not_**__ nonsense! I was going to tell you the reason, but since you are acting like a jackass, forget I said anything and just **_leave_**!"

Helm wiped his brow and took a deep breath and started over again. "I am listening. Tell me."

When she finally spoke, it was so soft he could hardly hear it. "I was married."

"Married?" She nodded. "So was I," he said. Marta looked at him in surprise. "More coincidence between you and I." He had opened another chapter of his life for her and opposed to her, he was willing to fill in the blanks. "Yes, I was married. She was a spy, like me. She died in the line of duty. I watched her die." Helm's throat constricted as that he had said it so quickly. He could tell Marta anything, was ready to, and she couldn't even look at him. "Alice was her name. It was hard, it was awful, it hurt me deeply. But it was a long time ago. I have moved on. I love you."

Marta stood with wonderment at that information, almost shocked to Helm's estimation. He had lived, had done many things and had things done to him. Couldn't she tell that she was important to his life? However long it would be? 

"Married," he asked her. "You were married?" When she nodded, he asked, "Are you still married?"

"No," Marta said, slowly shaking her head. "My husband also died."

"Are Gitano under the belief that once you are married, you are married to that man until you hit your own grave?"

"No."

"Then what is the problem?"

"My husband was trampled in a stampede."

"I'm sorry," he quickly said, waiting for more. When none came, he said, "Marta, we have both felt pain. That is what makes the present so much nicer. There is no pain as long as we're together."

"I...," Marta began. "I do not want anything to happen to you."

"Well, that's more like it," Helm said and smiled.

"I am serious."

Helm walked to her and put his hands on her arms. "It is **_not_**__ going to happen. Nothing is going to happen to me except I will be extremely lonely if you refuse to see me."

Marta pushed him back a little and announced, "There is a curse."

She had said it as if she was carrying the weight of the world. Her shoulders sagged, she fell back against the wall and the worse part for Helm was, she wouldn't look at him. Helm suppressed a laugh, but said, "A what? That is even sillier." He lifted her chin to make her look at him and she batted his hand away.

Marta continued to look at him as she said, "I was a midwife, the child died. The grandmother, Senora Reboso, put a curse on me that I would never be happy with a man. That I would never have children. My husband died three days later. I have never had children. That is why Tessa is such a treasure to me."

Helm was confused. "Marta, you're shutting me out because you got the evil eye from a bitter Spanish woman?!" Marta reacted by moving to the side, ready to leave. Helm held onto her arm. "I lost a woman who was delivering a child! Am I cursed by her husband, a Don? **_No!"_**

Marta tried to get away from Helm, but under no circumstances would he let her. She yelled, "No! I am shutting you out because you do not understand my beliefs!"

"Yes!" Helm yelled in reply. "I don't. But I do understand that you never will be happy with a man if you keep shutting them out. Marta, you just remembered this 'curse'? Suddenly?"

"I thought it...," she cried out. She pulled at her arm, but Helm instead of letting her go, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as she cried. "I do not... I thought it might have... I have not been thinking."

She pushed him away and said, "I am not used to this! Yes! I forgot about it! It was years ago, since I have loved a man." She clamped her hand over her mouth, but Helm was pleased that she had at last said that word. When he walked forward again, she rushed to the door. "I do not want anything to happen to you."

"We've already been together, twice."

"Why push our luck?"

"Nothing's happened. Except that we both had a very nice time. Right?"

"Yes."

"Then?"

Marta stated, "It is over. You have to leave."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why do you not listen to me? You do not believe it, that is fine. I do." She gravely said, "I know. Leave."

He paused, then groaned. "Why not **_indeed_**!"

~~~~~

Don Nogales rode the horse around the corral with Tessa watching from the telescope on the bluff. He would stop the horse, then nudge him to move forward again. Whatever the Don wanted the horse to do, he would do it. Esteban dismounted the horse and stepped back as the men unbridled the horse and led him toward the stables. Alessandro climbed up the fence again and called to his father. Tessa wish she could have heard what he was saying, but she could guess. It was quite a site for her, it must have been electrifying for Alessandro.

Esteban pulled his son into the corral and hugged him, knowing that he had done a job very well. They walked toward the house as they pantomined conversation. Alessandro's arms were flying as he was obviously recounting to his father what he had seen and how excited he was. 

Tessa wanted so much to be a part of that talk, to congratulate the Don, share in Alessandro's joy, but she couldn't. She wasn't a part of them and she knew it. She couldn't be seen. There was nothing more important to her at that moment than to sit with that family at dinner. She wanted to talk to Alessandro so he wouldn't worry about the bad woman who had robbed them. Tessa was concerned that the Don's children were having nightmares. She wanted to meet all of his children. She remembered the time that they had gathered around Maria Louisa by the fountain in Santa Helena just before her death. Tessa wanted to hold the little one that lived while Helm couldn't save her mother's life. Those were the maternal instincts of Tessa, what she really wanted more than anything was to be once again close up with Esteban. To have him speak to her. To have him know her, who she really was.

She walked back to where Chico stood to return home with the hope that one day she would be able to talk to the Don and his children, get to know them, be a part of them. For now, she would get out of their way. Just watching him for that short time was enough for the moment. She thought of riding out to Beggar's Canyon to see what sort of riffraff had recently collected there.

Tessa usually left them alone because it seemed the only ones they robbed were each other but maybe there was a new gang in the area, maybe one of them knew of the fake Queen. But she couldn't appear to them as the Queen. It was nice that Montoya thought she was dead, but also an annoyance. She had to be careful who she appeared to, and when she did, had to explain too much.

Tessa had had a long day of watching and Chico could use some hay. To think of it, she was getting really hungry also. Dinner with the Nogales' was a pleasing thought, but she knew that Marta had probably cooked a full meal and was expecting her. 

As she rode back home, she spotted a lone horseback rider following the road from her estate to town. Tessa became excited. Maybe it was Marta's suitor and she could find out who he was. She rode to him, then realized what clothes she was wearing. She was supposed to be dead. "Damn!" She veered Chico off the road before he could notice her. His long tan coat that flowed behind him on the horse looked very familiar.

~~~~~

**Continued soon**

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/manzanacore
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo



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